The Past Haunts You
by Jedicren
Summary: The war is over; The trio has come out relatively unscathed... or have they? There are secrets amongst the wreckage waiting to be uncovered and exposed. (Ch7 is a flashback into the MWPP days)
1. Preface

**Title: **Awake

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or the company he keeps. In fact, I own _nothing_... not even the plot... not really. I invented it, of course... but it isn't copyrighted—well, you get the picture.

o-o-o-o

The first thing he noticed upon opening his eyes was the blinding sunlight streaming through the half-opened curtains. The ceiling was red—no, that was the material of the four-poster. Was he at Hogwarts—safely tucked away in Gryffindor tower? _No, 7th year ended... didn't it? _There was a slight breeze blowing through the room, making his bangs flutter and tickle his forehead. Harry blinked once or twice in an attempt to get his eyes to adjust to the bright light. How long had he been here? And where, exactly, was _here?_ Stretching his neck to the left he saw that the nightstand was littered with cards and chocolate and his glasses were lying upside-down atop the pile. He managed to grab them without upsetting the mound too much and the room suddenly came into sharp focus. His wand was also lying amongst the array of paper and... opened chocolate frog cards. He grabbed for it, taking comfort in the familiar chips and grooves in the wood.  The clock on the bureau across the room was flashing 12:27.  Suddenly feeling very confined, he pulled his legs out from under the covers and for the first time noticed what he was wearing—pajamas? _Where the bloody hell _am_ I?_ After scanning the room once more he began to sense some familiarity—as if he'd seen it before, long ago perhaps. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when he came upon a (recent?) newspaper lying on the floor, did Harry remember the last time he'd been awake.

**_Malfoy Sentencing to Begin Soon. _**

_Oh Merlin—the Death Eaters!_ The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. They had all been underground... Hermione, Ron, Neville, George, Padma.... A nauseous feeling swept over his whole body. He hadn't... left them there, had he? There was no way he would have lost consciousness in the heat of battle leaving his friends to die! _But there were so many of them._ Instinctively, he rubbed his thumb over his forehead expecting to feel the familiar prickle. But no—Voldemort was gone... that war ended months ago; It was his sick followers that had taken so many people hostage. _Slow down!_ _You're not in any danger _now_! This room—it's safe._ After getting to his feet, it took a minute or two for the dizzy feeling to subside. It must have been a few days (or more?) since he had last used his limbs. Regaining his balance, Harry ran the fingers of his left hand along the white wall until he found the doorknob. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he quietly pulled open the door.

o-o-o-o

Ginny had been dusting the portraits in the hallway, smiling with amusement as the people inside the frames giggled and fled, when the door behind her opened. Without thinking, she whipped around and pulled her wand out the back pocket of her jeans, pointing it directly at Harry's(?) throat. The sight took only a second to register—he was _awake!_ "H-Harry!" she gasped. Her wand made a soft clunking noise as it slipped from her fingertips and landed on the wooden floor below. She closed the gap between them in a split second and engulfed him in a huge hug. The feeling of joy was threatening to overwhelm her. "You—you're awake!"

"Er—yeah..." he managed; a grimace apparent on his face. His wounds from the week before obviously hadn't completely healed.

_That would make sense, you idiot! Both his arms were broken and who knows what kind of torture he went through—_"Sorry... I—I didn't mean to..." she backed up a step and clasped her hands behind her back.

"No, it's—I can't..." he stopped for a minute and glanced down the hall, "we're—er—in Grimmauld Place?"

"Oh—you—you don't remember coming here?" She mentally smacked herself. _Of course he doesn't remember, you git! He was bloody unconscious... he probably doesn't even remember the Aurors finding him!_

He shook his head and looked down at his feet uncomfortably. Then, a thought seemed to dawn on him, "Ron—Hermione... are they--?"

"Oh! No... hold—one minute, I think..." she could hardly make sense of the jumble of thoughts running through her head. "Do you want me to bring them up here? I think they're downstairs in the drawing room working—if they knew you'd woken..."

"No—er—that is... I'll go down if it's alright."

_It's just Harry... we were friends before all this (perhaps more?)! Why can't you just be_ normal_ around him?! _Ginny couldn't seem to make sense of all the thoughts that were streamlining through her head. She took a deep breath and grabbed his hand, leading him away from the doorway toward the stairs. His grip relaxed after a second and his fingers laced into hers, letting her pull him through the house.

o-o-o-o

The house had changed since he had last been inside it—how long ago now? What month _was_ it, anyway? He wanted to ask Ginny... but not until he found out what happened down in the Death Eater Headquarters after he'd... passed out. _Obviously someone saved you, Potter. Otherwise you wouldn't be standing here, pretty much intact, back in the secret Order headquarters. And Ron and Hermione are OK... Ginny said so._ He had been able to breathe a bit easier after finding out that information. His two best friends, the people who meant more to him then anyone else, were alive and (hopefully) well. As they made their way through the old Black family kitchen, Harry noticed the huge collection of dirty dishes in the sink.

As if sensing his thoughts, Ginny cleared her throat, "there was an early meeting this morning—everyone stayed around for breakfast." Then, stopping in front of a huge set of double doors she let go of his hand and pulled her wand back out. "Alohamora." The wooden knobs turned and the doors slowly moved apart to reveal the large, crimson colored drawing room. Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the floor with half a dozen books lying in a semi circle around her. Her long, bushy hair was twisted up and held in place with a quill and her face, though difficult to see behind a long roll of parchment, had numerous ink blots near the jaw line. Ron was sprawled out on his back nearby and was casually levitating a textbook and a short scroll above his head. From where he was standing, Harry noticed his arm was in a sling and there were a few scratches on his forehead. But otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"Ginny, have you..." Hermione looked up, suddenly realizing that Ginny wasn't the only one standing in the doorframe. "H-Harry?" she whispered, rising slowly to her feet. Next to her, the levitating books above Ron's head came crashing down.

Harry instinctively pushed his glasses further up onto his nose, "Yeah—it's me... most of me anyway, as far as I can..." but he was cut off as Hermione's body crashed against his. The abrupt pain in his joints was hardly noticeable though because all at once the memories of the past few months started rushing through his head. "Hermione—I thought... oh _Merlin_..." He wretched himself out of her grip and cupped her face in his hands. At once he noticed the ink-spots were not ink-spots at all, but bruises along the length of her jaw.

She seemed to notice his horrified expression at once, "no... the Aurors—they found us not too long after—Colin was..."

"Murdered." Ron had finally spoken up. Harry didn't get the chance to feel uncomfortable before his best friend had stepped up and wrapped his good arm around him.

Harry bit his lip and choked back tears as they clung together. "Oh, Ron... I—I am so _sorry_ about what happened!" he managed to say.

Ron shook his head vigorously, "no—_none_ of it is your fault! They didn't only want you, this time," he glanced quickly at Hermione before adding, "We're just glad you're finally awake. You scared us pretty badly there, mate."

Ginny stepped next to her brother and wrapped her arms around his waist, "It's almost over, Harry... they will all be in Azkaban sooner then you know it."

Harry nodded solemnly. He was so relieved that his two friends were alright. But this knowledge wasn't enough to make the slightest dent in his never ending steam of thoughts. "So what happened after I...?" His three friends shifted awkwardly and stood for a moment in silence.

Ron looked at the two girls, "Well, since Ginny wasn't there and Hermione was—well..."

"Stupefied." She stated.

"Yeah—thanks... I guess I'll have to answer all your—er—questions." He raked his fingers through his long red hair and bit his lip. He shot a meaningful look at Harry; it was obvious he wanted to continue the discussion later.

"Why don't—we can talk about this later, yeah?" Ginny pleaded hopefully. "Maybe we should OWL everyone and let them know Harry's awake?"

Hermione nodded in agreement, "Mrs. Weasley has been here fussing over you nonstop, Harry—everyone has, really. Snape even sent you a card, did you see?"

He shook his head.

"Well, you'll have to read them all—Ron ate all the chocolate frogs, _of course_..."

_It's good to be back... really it is._

o-o-o-o

Alright, did I peak your interest? Maybe? Well, I have a very interesting story line all ready to go, so if you are interested in finding out just _what_ happened during the months our favorite characters were held captive by Death Eaters, please stay tuned.  There will be plot clues hidden periodically throughout the story (aren't I a _genius_?  (You don't have to answer that)).

It's gonna get messy... I promise.

Oh, and I could use a beta... any volunteers?


	2. Hermione's Nightmare

**Title: **Hermione's Nightmare

**Disclaimer:** Same as always—I still don't own anything.

**Notes:** First and foremost I would like to thank my lovely beta, Manchot du Destin (definitely check out her fanfiction if you get the chance!) for nitpicking through this and for giving such brilliant praises (you make me feel all warm and fuzzy :o)

Secondly… there are little subtle hints hidden in this chapter about future characterization and plot points. Have fun and let me know if you find them!

This takes place two days after Harry woke up (chapter 1)

* * *

"_## OFF, MALFOY! GET AWAY FROM HER!" Ron screamed, violently pulling on his chains. The dungeon temperature always dropped ten degrees when the Death Eaters were inside, but droplets of sweat were still visible on Ron's brow. Blood and sweat—that pretty much summed up the smell of the small, dark chamber that housed four of the eight D.A. members._

"_Ignore him, Ron!" she managed to spit out, holding her chin high beneath Draco Malfoy's scathing glare. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to convince herself to do the same thing. He wanted a reaction—no, he wanted all of them dead… every single one. But they were worth too much._

"_Oh, am I making the weasel angry?" he laughed bitterly. Cackles were heard around the room from the other men, which only stood to make Ron shake with rage. "You know," Malfoy added, tapping his chin in thought, "I'm not allowed to kill you… but, correct me if I'm wrong, Bellatrix never said anything about not causing some pain." He looked directly at a dark haired, scantily dressed woman in the corner and wagged a long, white finger at her, "Danika, darling… would you bring the guest of honor in here, please? I think it's time we had a little fun with our dear friend Potter."_

_Hermione heard Neville whimper from the opposite corner. Vincent Crabbe had already had 'fun' with him earlier; from what she could tell, he had a severely broken leg. "Malfoy, you'll never get your deal if the ministry doesn't receive us all in one piece," she attempted to reason with him. _

_This statement was met with a harsh laugh, "You don't get it do you Mudblood? You are in no position to bargain—that's my job. A few quick spells will fix the lot of you up in a second… when the time comes. Until then--" _

_He cut the lecture short as the heavy metal door opened to reveal Harry, battered and bruised, followed closely by the black-haired witch, Danika. She put a delicate hand in the center of his back and pushed him forward into the stuffy room. _

_He looked so weak, with blood running down his face from cuts near his hairline and long, thick gashes covering his bare back; nothing like the man who, barely two weeks before, had defeated the most evil wizard of the day. His glasses were basically intact, although sweat was pushing them further and further down his nose. Danika gave him another quick shove and he fell hard to his knees in the center of the dirt floor, coughing madly. Hermione let out a weak whimper and heard Ron issue forth a string of soft curses. _

_The woman dug the heel of her right pump harshly into his shoulder, making him moan in agony. "There's a good lad—just making sure you're-- awake," she whispered seductively, running the fingers of her right hand through his black tresses. _

_Hermione sputtered with disgust, "Let him alone!"_

"_Ahh, is this upsetting you, Mudblood? Can't stand watching your precious boyfriend in the hands of someone so… luscious?" Draco barked at her. When she refused to answer or look at him, he backhanded her across the face roughly. She let out a yelp of pain as a ring on his middle finger cut deep into her cheek. The air next to her tensed as Ron tried to wrench himself free of his bonds, and from the center of the room Harry let out a shout of protest. Although she couldn't see the rest of her friends, she knew Colin, George, Parvati, and Seamus were in the next cell, most likely receiving the same treatment._

"_No… actually I was thinking how pathetic it is that after all this time, you're still jealous of Harry," she chanced. Perhaps if she made him mad enough, he would forget Harry for a moment._

_No such luck._

"_JEALOUS!? Is THAT what I am? Yes, Granger, all my life I have wanted the underserved fame this-- _scar _has given him." He crossed the room in a few short steps and wrenched Harry's head backward by his fringe so that everyone could see the offending mark. A noise of protest echoed out of his throat as his face was thrust toward the ceiling. Hermione cringed as Draco continued, "I think it's about time we taught you a lesson about back talking, you filthy &!"_

_She knew what was coming—Malfoy would send one of his indecent cronies to fetch a torture device and she would spend the next ten minutes in agony, listening to all of them laugh with delight. If only she had her wand…. "Why don't you roll over and die, Malfoy… filthy piece of slime," Okay, maybe this time she had gone too far. _

_His face was screwed up with unrequited rage as he pounded over to her and in one fluid motion pushed her down on the cold floor, underneath him. "I know what you would like, $$##." He grabbed the cotton material of the neck of her shirt and tore it down to her elbow. He looked up and smirked at her for a moment before lowering his face and kissing the flesh of her shoulder with his chapped lips. Draco smiled sadistically, "Yes, we all know what you really want."_

_A sob was heard deep in her throat as he straddled her. From somewhere in the background, she heard Harry, Ron, and Neville howling in protest. As he leaned down again, Hermione strained her neck and bit him as hard as she could on the neck, drawing blood. _

_The last thing she remembered was Malfoy pulling back wailing, "STUPEFY!"_

* * *

Hermione woke with a start, sweating profusely. She had been having the same nightmare over and over for the past two weeks. Turning onto her side, she fumbled around in the darkness searching for Ron's warm body underneath the sheets. All she could find, however, was a cold indentation in the mattress where he should have been.

She quietly climbed out of bed to reach her night robe on a hook nearby and threw it over her shoulders. She padded to the nightstand to gather her wand and slowly made her way to the door. There were no windows in the hallway but a soft glow coming from the kitchen bathed the wooden walls and the carpeted stairs in light. Before she had completely descended the steps, whispers could be heard, along with the whistles of a hot teapot.

"Ron… it makes _me_ sick to even think about it," Harry paused for a moment. "I just—I can't tell her… or anyone."

Hermione froze for a second. _What could they be talking about? _She didn't have much of a chance to get a complete thought out before Harry started speaking again.

"It's so—embarrassing…."

"It wasn't your fault, mate!" Ron seemed adamant about getting his point through, "You did it to _save _her. Any of us would have! The reason—Malfoy wanted to make you suffer… he always has."

Hermione was torn between not wanting to eavesdrop and figuring out what embarrassing moment they were speaking of. Her integrity won over in the end, however, and she moved down the remaining steps and into the kitchen light. Harry was at the counter pouring two cups of tea and Ron was sitting at the table leaning his chair back on two legs with his arms stretched out behind his neck. They both paused as soon as she entered the room and gave her a strange look.

"I—couldn't sleep," she said hurriedly.

Ron righted his chair and held his arms out for her to come over, "Did you have another nightmare?" he asked quietly. She nodded, and crossed the room to allow him to gather her up in his arms.

Harry shifted uncomfortably with the teapot for a moment before summoning another cup from the adjacent cupboard. "About Malfoy?" he questioned.

"Yes," she admitted after a minute. Ron's arms tightened around her waist and she curled into his lap. They usually tried to avoid public displays of affection, mostly because nearly no one outside the Order knew they were together. Harry, however, knew them too well. The three twenty-one-year-olds were like a family, closer perhaps. He was the only one, aside from Ginny, who was allowed to see them in their natural state.

Wanting to avoid further questions on the subject, she scanned the room for a clock, "What time is it, anyway?"

"About six," Harry answered as he levitated the tea-filled cups onto the kitchen table and sat down across from his two friends. He seemed withdrawn at the moment, Hermione noted.

"Mum will be here soon with the post. There's supposed to be a meeting at noon… oh, and the Lestrange trial is set to begin next Monday," Ron said, taking a quick sip of his steaming tea. Harry visibly shuddered.

"The sooner this is all over with, the sooner we can all get out of this house," Hermione added. They had opted not to go under a Fidelius charm for the time being; Hermione's reasoning being that at least by staying inside the Order's headquarters, they could help out occasionally. Ginny had been forced to move in shortly after Voldemort's fall by Mad-Eye Moody. Eight members of the D.A. had been kidnapped by Death Eaters and the retired Auror had no doubt they would use any means necessary to capture Ginny also.

With the exception of Fred Weasley and a few others, Ginny was the only D.A. member not taken hostage. As much as Ginny would have liked to attribute this to her wonderful dueling skills, it was mostly because she had been guarding the exit to the underground chamber, making sure no one tried to escape. Unfortunately, they had anyway using an unauthorized portkey (a few of them, most likely). Hermione had talked extensively with Ginny about what happened that night, assuring her it was no more her fault then anyone else's.

After a long battle with Professor McGonagall, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were given permission to remain at Grimmauld Place with Ginny until the remaining Voldemort supporters were found.

"It will never _really_ be over," Harry grunted, staring gloomily into his teacup.

Ron raised his eyebrows and leaned over to look into his friend's cup. "I don't think you'll find the Grim in there, mate."

Harry made an unattractive snorting noise.

"I rather like it here," said a quiet voice from the hallway. Turning toward the noise, for the first time they noticed Ginny had woken up and was standing in a loose night robe in the doorframe. She pushed her short red hair behind her ears and crossed her arms, "Is this a private party?" she asked. Ginny had, along with the other three, been living in the headquarters.

"Of course not," Hermione said, smiling.

"Morning, Gin," Ron smiled. The bags under his eyes had begun to recede slowly over the past few days. They had all lost quite a bit of sleep while Harry had been in a comatose state but Ron seemed to be worse off.

o-o-o-o

"You'd rather be here than the burrow?" Harry asked Ginny, cocking his head to the side.

Ginny grabbed a biscuit from the counter and crossed the room. When she sat next to Harry, her robe dipped down, exposing a bare, freckled shoulder. Harry blushed and began stirring his tea once more. _It's just skin for Merlin's sake! You've seen her shoulders before... not in quite some time... but still._ He looked up. _Don't LOOK, you git! Oh wonderful, now _Ron's_ giving me odd looks—probably thinks I want to shag his sister._

"Home is so… lonely now," she continued. "If I go back… it'll just be mum, dad, and me." She turned to Ron, "Admit it… when this is all over, you won't be coming back."

It was quiet for a moment before Ron spoke; he seemed to be pondering the question, "No… I won't be." He pulled Hermione in closer, rubbing his nose into her blue night robe. "It will be nice though—you know, not living in secret for the first time in…"

"Two years," Hermione finished for him.

"Yeah… life can go back to normal—whatever that means," Ginny smiled.

"I can go back to the Dursley's!" Harry said, sounding extremely excited. The quiet room erupted in laughter.

Ginny was giggling so hard she lost her grip on the teacup and it fell to the floor, smashing into little pieces. "I think—I need a new cup!" she hiccupped. She started to summon a new mug from the cupboard, but Hermione stopped her mid-word.

"No—use one of the older ones. Charlie just sent these from Romania," Hermione remarked, pointing to the teacup she was holding. "Reparo." The pieces on the floor came back together and flew up toward her waiting hand.

Harry silently applauded himself for making her laugh so hard. She looked so beautiful when she smiled—even when turning amusing shades of red. For a second it felt like old times—back at Hogwarts. Except that back then everyone was living in constant fear that Voldemort was lurking nearby… and he usually was. Now they could laugh all day if they wanted to. Death wasn't an ominous shadow threatening to rip them apart.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" he hadn't realized Hermione was speaking to him.

"We're going back up to bed for a bit—are you planning on going to the ministry later?" She stood up and levitated their empty teacups to the kitchen sink.

"Er—yeah, I suppose I should, yeah?" It had been three months since he stepped foot inside the Auror headquarters, it would probably be a good idea to go. "That is—assuming I still have a job."

"_Harry_," Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically, "they can't _sack_ you for being held hostage by a dozen dark wizard _lunatics_!" Ginny wasn't an official Auror yet, but she was starting her third year of training, which was to be spent working as an intern with the Aurors. Harry secretly hoped she would be assigned to him and his partner. _Ugh, he thought to himself, you're despicable, Potter!_

"Besides, I heard a rumor that they're planning a big 'Yay—Voldemort's Dead' party," Ron grinned. "Can't miss that."

"This from the same people who brought you the 'Darn—Voldemort's Still Alive' party," Hermione giggled.

"Oh, and the 'Shucks, he's Risen Again' bash," Ginny added, taking a bite of her biscuit. "We were too young for that one, but I heard it was a blast."

"Yeah, I'm thinking they just like to get sloshed," Harry snorted. It was true, after a long stakeout or raid, it was nice to have a firewiskey or two (or three) and celebrate _something_. Even Harry had been known to come home a bit tipsy from an Auror celebration.

"Hey, are those my new slippers!?" Ginny called after Hermione, who was halfway up the stairs.

"Yes, sorry! My feet were cold so I borrowed them!" She yelled back.

A split second later, two blue slippers were sailing through the air, heading toward Ginny; they hit her (twice) in the head. "Thanks," she called up to Hermione.

The two friends sat in comfortable silence for a second before Ginny reached across the table and pulled the new issue of _Witch Weekly_ toward her. "Did you know," she said thoughtfully, "that you were voted the #1 Bachelor this year?"

Harry smiled and feigned shock, "oh _really_… I bet it has nothing to do with defeating a dark wizard and surviving the killing curse when I was a year old…" he paused for affect, "Must be my good looks then."

Ginny grinned, "Must be. You'll be excited to know that _this _year our own Ronald Weasley has made the list also."

Harry snorted, "What number?" _Finally he can't make fun of me for it!_

"Four—right behind Oliver Wood… Deirram Snor writes that _Ronald Bilius Weasley has been spotted now and again with one Hermione Jane Granger, a Muggle born, but the nature of their relationship is unclear_."

"Unclear to _them_," he joked. For safety purposes, they had all _tried_ to keep their love lives from the press. If the information wasn't available, it made it difficult for the Death Eaters to use it against them if they were ever to be held hostage (like _that_ would happen). He hadn't spoken to Ron about it, but Harry highly doubted even the Weasleys knew just how… _serious_ the two twenty-one-year-olds were about one another.

"Ah, well… I should probably get ready for work," Ginny said, tossing the magazine toward Harry and standing up. "You're coming in later, then?"

He nodded. Sitting and talking to Ginny was loads of fun, and Harry wished she didn't have to leave. Part of him wanted to ask her to stay or ask her on a date or _something_…. The other half of him, however, knew she was far too good for him. She deserved someone who wasn't constantly in the spotlight, someone who wasn't followed around by the press, someone who could admit their own hidden dark secrets.

"Oy, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Ginny had poked her head around the corner, "Mum dropped by to visit a few days ago—she's been collecting your mail. I think she left it on the bureau in your room."

"Er—thanks," he said, quite embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. He smiled as her face disappeared and footsteps were heard advancing up the stairs. Yes, she was _way_ too good for him. _She's beautiful and pure and _nothing_ like you, Potter._ He banished the rest of the dishes littering the table to the sink and made to head into the drawing room.

He had only taken a few steps when the front door opened and Remus Lupin came hurrying into the kitchen. "Harry! You're awake!" he said, grinning at the younger man.

"If I had a galleon for every time someone said that…" He was cut off mid-sentence by a bone crushing hug, quite out of character for the usually calm Lupin. After graduating Hogwarts, while studying to be an Auror, Harry had lived with him outside of Devon. They had quite a few adventures together in those two years (Sirius would have been proud). Unfortunately, a group of Voldemort supporters ruined it for the both of them when they tried kidnapping Harry in the middle of the night. He had gone into hiding not too long after that.

"It's _so_ good to see you… I nearly went mad those few months you were missing! I felt like I failed you—I'm the only Marauder left and you slipped through my fingers," Remus admitted sadly, looking Harry straight in the eyes.

"You can't save me from everything," Harry replied softly. Remus had been like a father to him ever since Sirius had died. He gave him a home and treated him like family—not that he expected anything less. Remus had felt like it was his job to take care of Harry… for James and Lily. Harry had no doubt Remus loved him like a son, and it felt good. Now, even though he had moved on and learned how to take care of himself (maybe he had learned long ago, back at the Dursley's), if he ever had a problem, he knew he could count on Remus to help.

"Yes, I know—you can take care of yourself. But you've proved that, haven't you? Harry…" Remus choked up for a moment before continuing, "I want you to know how proud I am of you. You could have run from that prophesy… or gone into hiding. But you didn't—you grabbed it by the horns and beat it into submission. Your parents… and Sirius—they would be incredibly proud of you too. I just—want you to know how grateful I am."

Harry blushed and offered a small smile. Hearing that someone was proud of him was a great feeling. _Alright, a little embarrassing... but brilliant._

Before he was able to find something to say, the large front door opened again, this time revealing quite a few Order of the Phoenix members. Molly Weasley was the first to enter the kitchen. She grabbed Harry by the shoulders and immediately started bawling. She was saying something—asking him a question, perhaps?—but he couldn't make it out between sobs. So Harry just nodded and patted her on the back. _Ugh, I am so bad with women—especially when they're crying!_ His thoughts drifted for a minute back to his first kiss—with Cho Chang under the mistletoe. _Made a git of myself that day... and afterward._

Mr. Weasley entered a few moments later and was able to pry her off. "Alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

Minerva McGonagall came through the kitchen door soon thereafter, dressed in long tartan robes, and clapped both hands on Harry's shoulders. He thought for a second that it was supposed to feel awkward but instead it seemed completely normal. "Well, Mr. Potter—you've certainly lived up to my expectations. Professor Dumbledore…" her eyes began to water and her voice turned hoarse, "he always considered you to be one of the most talented students Hogwarts had ever seen." She took a second to regain her composure. "Even if you _did _spend most of your time either in the hospital wing, detention, or under that invisibility cloak you thought no one knew about."

He grinned. _I suppose it doesn't matter if she knows now... although it will be difficult for my kids to get around the school in the middle of the night if the Headmistress knows about the cloak. Wait a second—do you _want_ your children wandering about the castle at midnight? Maybe I need to rethink this._

"Well, the famous Harry Potter was _never_ one to follow the _rules_," sneered a voice from behind him. Harry knew who it was without having to turn around; he hadn't spent seven years dreading Potions for nothing.

"Good to see you, professor," Harry lied. _Ugh, why today? Couldn't this have waited until—_never?

"Likewise," Severus Snape huffed. Without another word, he turned on his heel and advanced into the center meeting room. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. _At least I didn't have to have a long conversation with him. It could have been worse._

Minerva shook her head and mumbled something about ridiculous grudges and James Potter before following Snape into the next room.

After about a half-a-dozen more 'hellos' he decided to retreat to his bedroom. He was rather curious as to what the Order had left to discuss (leftover Death Eaters, perhaps?), but decided against joining them for the meeting. He was probably going to get caught up on the latest Dark Wizard reports in a little over an hour at the Auror Headquarters anyway. The least he could do would be to catch an extra hour's sleep. His brain felt overloaded. There were so many people to see and even more that wanted to make sure he was _really_ alright. Part of him wanted to retreat to a silent corner and spend the rest of his life alone and the other half wanted to move on—continue living. He felt sure that things would eventually settle down—until then he would have to live day to day.

* * *

Ron pulled a jumper over his head and shoved his feet into a (hopefully matching) pair of shoes. Hermione had (of course) been ready for an hour and a half and had spent the better part of it pestering Ron to get out of bed. _She's so cute when she's agitated._ _We'll spend the rest of our lives in mindless banter, and I am going to love every moment of it._ He felt so lucky. Hermione had blossomed into a lovely woman. _Beautiful and smart and _all mine, he thought happily.

"Ron!" she giggled.

"Hrmph?" He grunted from underneath his sweater. His face was nearly through an armhole and he was trying to tie a shoe with the fingers of his free hand.

"Here, let me—oh for goodness _sake_!" She rolled her eyes and helped him push his head through the correct hole. She smiled at him and raked her fingers through his messy red hair.

He clasped his hands at the small of her back, on top of her green ministry robes. He loved it when she was dressed for work—she looked so professional. When he was younger, he thought he'd never get used to women in robes; but he had decided the first time he saw Hermione in adult robes that he had never seen someone so beautiful. Ron fingered a loose brown curl that was lying on her shoulder. "I don't think I've ever met anyone as gorgeous as you," he said softly.

She blushed and paused a moment before leaning toward him and whispering, "Better not have, Mr. Weasley." She then kissed him on the tip of his nose and waltzed toward the bedroom door saying, "I'm going to go make sure Harry's ready," and disappeared.

Ron chuckled and pulled his own robe over his head. Someday soon, he would have to have the dreaded conversation with his parents (and brothers) about the nature of their relationship. His mother thought Hermione shared a bedroom with Ginny at Grimmauld Place.

_Ugh, that chat's gonna be a nightmare._ It wasn't that he was embarrassed about it… _alright, maybe a little… _but he had just put it off for so long…. _It's not like there's anything wrong with it. Hopefully mum won't get all teary eyed and say things like 'Oh my little Ronniekins has grown up,' or 'why didn't you tell us sooner?'_ He groaned inwardly and dragged a comb through his red hair. Yes, the conversation was definitely going to _have_ to be a priority.

o-o-o-o

Hermione, Harry, and Ron apparated into the front lobby of the ministry. It hadn't changed much since Harry had been there last. The renovated fountain still made Hermione roll her eyes (the House elf is just _staring_ at the wizard!), and there was still an uncountable number of witches and wizards running about chaotically.

Before that thought had even solidified in his mind, a middle aged wizard came bustling up to the trio shouting Harry's name. "HARRY POTTER!"

Harry groaned rather loudly. Was it too much to hope that he could make a quiet entrance and retreat to the safety of the Auror office without being noticed? _Apparently it _is_ too much to ask._ He turned toward the man who had attracted quite a crowd behind him. Whispers of "It's the boy who lived!" and "I thought he was in hiding!" were heard among the people now surrounding them.

The large, bearded man grabbed his hand and shook it violently, "I just wanted to thank you!" _Oh no._ "You single handedly…"

"It _wasn't_ single handedly," Harry interrupted.

"Yes, well… I think we would _all _like to give you our thanks!" he continued enthusiastically. A round of applause started in the front of the crowd and picked up momentum in the lobby so that you couldn't hear anything else. Harry turned a horrid shade of magenta and offered a weak smile. When the intense clapping had died down a bit, the man reached behind him and pulled a young, buck toothed young girl out from behind him. She looked to be about 17 years old and had extremely long hair running down her back. "This is Mafalda, my daughter! You two would get along great. Maybe…"

Harry was horrified. He shot a look at Ron who was trying so hard not to laugh that his face was turning an odd shade of purple. _No help from that end of the spectrum._

Luckily, Hermione had the good sense to politely smile at the man and say, "I'm sure Harry is extremely grateful, but we do _really _need to be going. Harry can't be late for work!" She grabbed both his and Ron's hands and expertly wove them out of the mob of people (some of whom were still clapping).

"Thanks, Hermione that was brilliant. I wish I could think on my feet as well as you," Harry said honestly. She never ceased to amaze him. The girl was a genius no matter which way you looked at it.

"Yes, well… I was just hoping he didn't have any _other_ relatives he wanted you to marry," she sniggered. Beside her, Ron snorted.

Harry rolled his eyes at both of them, "Alright, shut it you two! That had to have been on my 'top ten most embarrassing moments' list… which is rather long by now." He stepped into the elevator and laughed at the amount of inter-office memos that were floating around near the light. When he reached level 2, he bid Ron and Hermione goodbye and stepped into the corridor leading to the Auror section. A few memos flew by him down the hallway, disappearing into an open door.

He didn't get very far into the office before a voice, which could only belong to Nymphadora Tonks, was heard shouting his name. She emerged enthusiastically only seconds later, clad in purple Ministry robes and matching purple hair. "Alright there, Harry?"

He smiled and nodded. "Anything interesting been going on while I've been—er—away?" he asked. A few others, hearing Tonks' loud greeting, were poking their heads out of their cramped cubicles and saluting him. The office itself seemed smaller; large pictures of known dark wizards still lined the walls but now some of them were accompanied by Azkaban snapshots with large red 'Case Closed' stamps across the front. This offered Harry little relief, however. In the far corner, a large object caught his eye. It resembled a gigantic version of the Marauder's Map with tiny dots moving about the surface. He pushed his glasses further up onto his nose and squinted.

"Tonks, what's that?" he asked, pointing to large parchment covering the better half of the back wall. When he reached the end of the row of cubicles, he noticed Kingsley Shacklebolt was crouching down and pointing his wand at a place in the far right corner.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, noticing him for the first time, "Great to have you back!" He stood up and shook his hand.

"This is our newest toy, my boy!" Tonks said, waving her wand toward the map. "Remus Lupin is the _genius_ behind it—well, along with quite a few people in the Experimental Charms Division… including that strange man with the horns. We were tipped off that there were Death Eaters congregating in a secret hideout north of London, so Lupin devised this baby to help us find them," she said proudly.

Harry detected a strange air when she said Remus's name, but dismissed it without further thought. "So this—is how you found us?" he asked, finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together. When he and his fellow D.A. members had been down in the dungeon of the Death Eater headquarters, he'd thought no one would ever find them. Thankfully, he'd been wrong.

"Yes—it was fairly easy once we had the map. The Alpha team was able to zone in on your specific location. For the past few weeks we've been working on a replica of it for an area near Bristol—now that Hermione Granger's back in the office it can get finished. The girl's a genius when it comes to experimental charms."

This statement filled Harry with pride. "She's a genius in _every_ area, Sir."

"She would have made an excellent Auror," Tonks commented. "Anyway, we're hoping to have it finished within the week."

Harry nodded and looked more closely at the small black dots moving around. They had tiny little names accompanying them, barely visible. The map only detailed about two dozen streets, he couldn't imagine the size it had it been for London in its entirety.

"Harry Potter; is that your messy black head I see back there?" yelled a voice from a nearby cubicle.

Harry smiled and turned around, "Is it _that_ bad? I swear I combed it this morning." Allard Baldwin had been his partner for the past year. He was twenty-four, sported straight blonde hair, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea, and had a slightly bigger build than Harry. He was quite popular with the female Aurors, especially new trainees. Aside from that, he was one person Harry had deep respect for. He had smooth talked his way out of many sticky situations. They often joked that their partnership offered two strategies; Al would attempt to talk the Dark Wizard to death and if that failed, they'd go to plan B and Harry would duel them to death. During combat practice, Harry usually bested his colleague but would occasionally be thrown off by Al's mindless chatter and lose concentration.

"I don't even think I could _hex_ your hair down, Potter," Al said, smiling. He casually walked over to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome back there, mate. I was wondering if I'd ever see your ugly mug again."

"What, you thought a little problem like Voldemort or Death Eaters could keep me away from this place?" He hadn't realized how much he'd missed Al during the three months he'd been away from the office. He was reminded of all the times they'd spent in boring stakeouts together. He never tired of the other man's company—they were always laughing and talking (and getting lectured about the definition of stealth).

"Nah, I just figured with You-Kno—err—Voldemort gone you'd retire to a quiet life with some unattractive hooker (would he _ever_ live that down?) and have ten messy-haired little replicas of yourself."

"I thought about it," Harry said, running a hand through his black hair, "but _how_ would you _ever_ catch another Dark Wizard without me?! You being a talentless lack of humanity and all." He paused for a moment before adding, "And who would chase off all the ladies for you?"

"HA!" he guffawed, "_I_ am not _Witch Weekly_'_s_ #1 Bachelor, mate, that's you."

Harry was about to throw a nasty comment back when they were interrupted by Kingsley Shacklebolt clearing his throat loudly. "Alright you two, lets get back to work. Potter, I was wondering if you were planning on continuing the D.A. through the end of the year."

The truth was he hadn't really thought about it. Was there a point in forging ahead with Dumbledore's Army now that the threat of Voldemort was diminished? "I suppose I'll have to speak with the rest of the group, Sir."

"Yes, do that." His expression softened for a moment and he added, "Just keep in mind that there will _always_ be wizards that go bad. That group you formed—it was the strongest assembly of people I've ever seen. Anyway, I want the _both_ of you back in training sessions by tomorrow." With that said he turned around and stalked back to his map.

Al grabbed Harry's bicep and squeezed it roughly, "looks like you've got loads of catching up to do," he mocked. "Don't worry I'll go easy on you… for a while anyway." Harry rolled his eyes and turned toward his cubicle. It was true he probably had lost some of his muscle mass. But it wouldn't take too long to gain it back. _You just wait, Baldwin._ _I'll be back in shape in no time._

"Oh, and Potter?" He paused for a second. "You're coming to the 'Yay, Voldemort's Dead' party at the Cursed Cat tonight, yeah?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Harry replied as he crossed the small hallway into his own makeshift office. Inside his tiny cubicle was an untidy file cabinet with dozens of multicolored notes stuck around the outside. He had used temporary sticking charms to keep the Wanted Wizard pictures stuck to the walls, including photos of the Malfoys and the Lestranges. Someone (probably Al) had come along with the rubber stamp and a red 'Case Closed' mark was written across the faces in the pictures. A pink note lying on the tiny desk caught his eye. Picking it up, he saw it was from Ginny.

_Harry, hope you have a nice first day back! See you at the party later this evening. –Ginny._

He smiled at the loopy handwriting and the little flowers that adorned the edge of the page. She might be a right good dueling partner and wicked with hexes but she was still quite the woman in every sense of the word. A new voice put the brakes on his daydream of Ginny.

"Hey, Harry… welcome back." A woman about thirty was leaning over his cubicle with a stack of papers tucked securely under her arm and a picture of a woman in the other hand. Harry recognized her as a member of the esteemed Alpha team. He smiled as she continued, "I was wondering if you could take a look at this picture for me? She's one of the people who escaped our ambush of the D.E. Headquarters a few weeks back. Her name is Danika Carden."

Harry blanched as he glimpsed the picture she was holding. The long black hair and the attractive smile were all too familiar to him. The woman in the picture was wearing a small red sweater and a very annoyed expression. She kept flipping her hair behind her shoulders and placing her small hands on her hips. He cleared his throat, "Erm—yeah… I might have seen her once or twice."

"Okay, well… if you can remember anything useful let me know. We think she might be the daughter of a deceased Death Eater. That's all I've been able to find so far."

"Alright… well, let me know how the search goes," he croaked.

Harry spent the remainder of the afternoon re-filing all his old cases and reorganizing his little area. He came across a few loose photos in the bottom of the last filing cabinet. The first one showed Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and himself after a Gryffindor Quidditch match Harry's 6th Year. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were sweaty and covered in mud, but grinning nonetheless. Rain was coming down in sheets in the background. They looked so young, laughing and waving at the camera (Colin was most likely on the other end). _Those were the days._ _Merlin, I miss Quidditch._ The game was so thrilling, so intense. The camaraderie on the pitch and in the stands was something you couldn't experience anywhere else. He had kept in touch with all his teammates over the years, even crazy Oliver Wood. _Trying out for a professional team would be bloody brilliant_. He didn't feel ready to give up working as an Auror yet, but the day was coming. Eventually he would retire from the fight against Dark Wizards. As he packed up his things at the end of the day, for the first time in a while the prospect of partying with his friends was sounding quite nice. He found himself joyfully anticipating the evening's activities.

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	3. Sink, Line, and Hooker

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter I would be rich and writing book 6 right now instead of posting fanfiction and scrapping cash together for a laptop (and studying for finals… wish me luck!)

**Title: **Sink, Line, and Hooker

**Notes: **The next chapter may take a few weeks to finish due to finals coming up soon. If I do manage to post before mid-December you'll know I've skived off my studies :o)

Big thanks to my beta, Manchot du Destin, for nitpicking! Once again, definitely check out her story, Of Cohorts and Competitors, for a good read!

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Droobles Best Bubblegum Rum—In my mind, this is a bubblegum flavored margarita

Chocolate Pensieve—Wizard version of the mudslide

Bludger—Really potent alcohol drink. May or may not have an extra magical boost

Smoking Dragon—Sort of like a flaming shot I suppose. I'm pulling all this out of my nose because I'm not (I swear!) an alcoholic by any means.

* * *

The Cursed Cat had been cleaned up and decorated extravagantly for the evening's activities. The first thing Hermione noticed upon entering was the life sized plastic Harry Potter replica complete with a glowing wand (_He's going to adore that)_. For lighting, the staff had lit Quaffle-sized orbs which were floating around near the ceiling, each omitting a different colored soft light. It gave the place a very serene feel. Banners hung from the walls, all with celebratory phrases like 'Way to Go Dumbledore's Army' and 'Yay, Voldemort's Dead (and Harry isn't).' Next to those were smaller green signs that all read 'Harry, Harry he's our man, if he couldn't do it—we'd all be dead!' Hermione assumed those were Fred and George's doing. Next to her, Ron seemed to notice them also, although his response was a snort of laughter. She shot him a look and he immediately went silent (although there was still a smirk on his face).

There were two buffet tables lined with food varying from lightning bolt shaped mini cakes to chocolate wands. A large glass bowl was filled with small multicolored candies but she noticed the Weasley twins hovering nearby (better to stay away from those). Glancing around, she saw that the bar was already packed with people, most of whom she'd only seen in passing in hallways at the Ministry. There were only a few people on the dance floor thus far; most were nursing drinks at nearby tables. Parvati Patil was the first familiar face Hermione spotted; she was sipping a Droobles Best Bubblegum Rum and twirling a black lock of hair around her finger. Hermione didn't recognize the man Parvati was talking to but she looked completely enamored with him. Deciding not to interrupt what was probably (not) a fascinating conversation, Hermione took hold of Ron's hand and led him toward the bar.

She was not what you would call a heavy drinker. In fact, she hardly ever had more then one butterbeer at a time. Ron, however, could occasionally be quite the opposite. She had heard from a fairly reliable source that onetime during 7th year, he and Harry had snuck a large quantity of firewhiskey into the Gryffindor boy's dormitory after a Quidditch match. This seemed relatively out of character for the two of them but Hermione distinctly remembered them being suspiciously ill one morning after a victory over Slytherin the night before. At the time, she had attributed it to spending two hours on a broomstick in the middle of February. _Was I ever wrong._

It didn't take long for the whole place to fill up. As far as she knew, the only people invited were ministry workers, members of the D.A., and the Order of the Phoenix. She was having a wonderful time in no time at all. Hopping from table to table, butterbeer in hand, she realized there were tons of people who knew exactly who she was. Apparently Hermione Granger was quite famous in her own right. _I've spent so much time with my head in books, researching spells to help Harry defeat Voldemort—I hadn't even realized people were paying attention._ For the first time, Hermione realized that what they had done hadn't only affected her family and friends, but _every single_ person in the wizarding world. She, Ron—the rest of the D.A.—they had ended the war. Granted, not every battle had been won, but the outcome was still the same. The thought blew her away.

A little while later she looked up across the lounge area to find Harry eyeing her from across the room. He gave her a big smile and started making his way over. He was stopped quite a few times by pretty women (probably Aurors?). This never ceased to make Hermione giggle. Harry had been so bad with girls at first. Hanging out with Ginny had helped somewhat but he always looked at a loss for words whenever a woman he didn't know was around. When he finally reached her, Hermione noticed that he looked so happy; finally free of the prophesy that had hung over his head for so many years. His black hair was, as always, a tangled mess, but his cheeks were rosy and his green eyes sparkled. For the first time since before she could remember, he looked completely at ease.

"Hey."

"Hi—are you enjoying yourself?"

He grinned widely, "Brilliant, yeah?" He clinked his bottle of Chocolate Pensieve against her mug. "Here's to our defeat over Voldemort!"

"Oh, are we toasting?" came Fred Weasley's voice from behind them.

"I _love_ a good toast, dear brother," drawled a matching one from behind him.

Hermione groaned. The night was about to get interesting.

As if he read her mind, Fred climbed onto the bar, which was illuminated by fairy lights, while clinking his glass madly. "ATTENTION!" The room slowly quieted down, everyone was waiting to hear what the amused-looking redhead had to say. After a long dramatic pause, he bellowed, "We are _gathered_ here today to celebrate a VICTORY!" Everyone within hearing distance cheered loudly. "A victory over the craziest, ugliest, DEADEST son of a bitch that ever set foot on the PLANET." Hermione laughed as the room was filled once again with cheers. "And I think we all need to give a round of applause to Witch Weekly's #1 Bachelor, Dark-Wizard Defeater, Seeker Extraordinaire, The-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die, Mr. HARRY POTTER!" As this last, drawn out sentence came to a close, the room erupted with whoops and screeches. Harry gave an embarrassed wave and downed the rest of his drink.

After a few minutes, everyone resumed their previous activities and Fred and George left to 'check' on the buffet tables (they did admit to having a surprise in store for later on). Ron finally reappeared, pink to the tips of his ears. "Harry! Do a bludger with me!" Harry didn't put up much of a fight as Ron slammed the glass down in front of him. Thirty minutes, two butterbeers, and a hundred jeers later ("She won't _do _it, mate," Ron had said) Hermione found herself accepting a small shot of glowing purple liquid from the bartender. She looked them both dead in the eyes, lifted the glass and tossed the contents down her throat. It was very difficult not to shudder as the awful concoction burned its way down her esophagus. _How could they have downed so many of these? It tastes dreadful!_

The two grown men howled with laughter. Harry thrust his fist into the air and shouted, "We've finally broken her!"

"Oh for _heavens_ _sake_, you two, it's just an alcoholic beverage! It's not like you convinced me to take off all my clothes and dance on the bar _naked_," she huffed. Ron's eyes popped up and a massive grin spread across his face at this remark. Her head had begun to feel light and there was a definite fluttering behind her eyes and forehead. _So this is what being drunk feels like._ She assumed this wasn't even the worst of it. Seamus Finnigan had waltzed past not five minutes earlier slurring something about catching the loose Hippogriff. Katie Bell was swaying wildly around the dance floor with George, and Alicia Spinnett had downed her _fifth_ firewhiskey. "It's like a Gryffindor party," Hermione commented more to herself then anyone else. Beside her, Harry and Ron burst out laughing again. "Oh stop it the both of you! I think you're waaayy more intoxicated then I feel."

"S'that even a complete sentence?" Ron slurred. Hermione couldn't help but giggle. Here they stood, three of the most intelligent Hogwarts graduates, getting drunk at a celebration.

"There you three are!" called Ginny from somewhere in the crowd.

Hermione swiveled around on her barstool to face her friend. Ginny's flaming red hair was curling softly around her face and she was dressed in a thin white t-shirt and a knee-length jean skirt. "Ginny… you look so—nice!" she heard herself slur.

"You two got Hermione _drunk_?" she laughed.

"I am _not_ drunk!" she shouted indignantly, trying to hear herself speak over the loud music playing in the background. Ginny did her best to stifle a giggle.

o-o-o-o

Harry didn't think he had ever seen Ginny look so beautiful (then again, a lot of things seemed beautiful at the moment). She was smiling and teasing Hermione about being drunk, completely ignoring the fact that he and Ron weren't in any better shape. His thoughts weren't coming out complete sentences; all Harry knew is that the woman standing before him had _long_ since grown up from the little girl who'd followed him around Hogwarts. Not that he hadn't realized this a long time ago, but tonight her thin t-shirt and feminine skirt made Harry truly appreciate the opposite sex. Hermione had often mentioned that he needed to find a girlfriend; but he usually just rolled his eyes and told her that he had too many other things to worry about. But now, the war was over. Now he could go back to what he was before: Just Harry.

"_Ron!_ I hate bludgers, they're sickening!"

"Please, Gin—you're just terrified it'll _taste bad_," Ron was teasing. He downed another shot glass filled with the purple liquid, as if to prove there was nothing to it.

"Kid stuff," she replied wistfully. Her expression turned challenging and she pushed her red hair behind her ears. "Think you can take me, _Ronald_?"

_Oh no, this doesn't sound good._

She smiled mischievously and called the bartender over. "Four smoking dragons please."

Harry's jaw dropped.

The bartender dropped four glasses down on the counter in front of them and filled them with mulled mead (or something like it). He then set four shot glasses full of bright red liquid nearby and pulled out his wand.

"Er—Ginny?" Hermione asked curiously. She obviously had no idea what was going on. Harry, however, had seen Al down quite a few these in years past. He had never tried one himself, mostly due to the next part of the mixture.

From the bartender's wand came four bursts of fire, alighting the shot glasses. Ginny caught his eye and grinned.

_She doesn't think I'll do it._ Not wanting to be shown up by a beautiful woman, Harry took a deep breath, picked up the glass and dropped it into the mulled mead. It immediately began to smoke and hiss, but before his better sense of judgment reared its ugly head, he picked up the glass and started to chug. Ginny, on the other side of Ron and Hermione was doing the exact same thing. The concoction wasn't at all pleasant; it more or less tasted like fiery cough syrup. But he did his best to act nonchalant about it.

"Well then, I suppose that would be our cue," Hermione said admirably, doing the best she could to act like she didn't fear the flaming liquid sitting in front of her. But Harry knew better. Despite her apparent tipsiness and exhibited lack of formality, she was scared stiff to follow suit. But, not wishing to be outdone by Ron, she dropped the glass into the mulled mead and drank the entire thing down.

Harry began to feel the effects immediately. Not only was his head spinning now, but he had the sudden urge to admit all his past sins to Ginny and ask her to marry him.

Luckily, Al picked this moment to jump into the conversation. He strode over with about five women in tow. Some looked like Auror trainees, the others—he really couldn't get a consistent enough thought going to finish that sentence.

"Harry!" Al said loudly. He had obviously been enjoying himself as well.

"Hey—do you guys remember Al? He's my partner," Harry stated proudly, clapping the man on the back. Hermione just grinned and nodded (Harry wasn't positive she was listening to a thing he said) and Ron didn't reply.

"Hey Al," Ginny said, grinning.

_Wait a second...._

"You two know each other?" Harry asked. Maybe it wasn't so strange—they _did_ work on the same floor.

"He was assigned as my training partner while you were—erm—gone," Ginny explained.

_Hopefully he doesn't know her as well as he knows many of the other female trainees._

"Oh." Harry stated dully.

"Yup," Al continued, "this woman had bats flying out my nose twice a week—she's a right good dueler."

Harry snorted with laughter, "Or you're just incredibly untalented."

Ginny punched him playfully in the arm. Before she could pull her hand back, though, he grabbed her wrist and twisted her body around so that her arms were crossed in front of her and her back was pressed against his chest. This was partially due to reflexes and partially due to…_ something else. _Electricity (aided by alcohol) cursed through his insides at the feeling of her body against his own. Al waggled his eyebrows a few times and grinned broadly at him. Ginny didn't fight him; moreover she let herself relax in his grip. He responded by leaning his chin into her hair. It smelled like strawberries. He wanted to whip her around right then and kiss her, but somehow decided that her brother, who happened to be standing two feet away, would not appreciate that. Under normal circumstances, this situation would never play itself out. Harry would have been too nervous, too bashful to touch her like this in public (or at all!). But holding her against him, feeling her warm body made his insides twist with a desire he had never known. It wasn't like he hadn't ever been _this_ close to a woman—even though he had kissed a few in his short twenty-one years. But Ginny was different, even if he couldn't quite remember why at the moment (the sudden hot sensation pulsating through his lower half was taking away whatever brain power he seemed to have left).

"Well, when you have a free minute, there are a few people over there (he jabbed a finger behind him) who want to hear the story about the—err—_stripper_ (the last word came out in a sort of cough. Unfortunately it was audible)."

Ron looked shocked, "the WHAT?"

Harry let go of Ginny and scratched his head, "absolutely not, I am DEFINITELY not intoxicated enough to relive _that_ particular horror story!"

Ginny turned to face him, an amused expression set upon her lovely features, "Harry, I think we would _all_ like to hear this one."

"Loads of thanks, mate," he said dryly. "You know, I do have quite a few embarrassing stories we could talk about which revolve around _you._"

"Aw come on, Potter! It's hilarious… a definite party story. I told you we'd eventually have to tell _someone_."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Besides, you think the lot of them will remember it in the morning?"

"Fine—just give it another hour or so. I want to make sure _I'm_ inebriated enough not to remember it tomorrow."

This reply seemed to satisfy Al, as he nodded and began to walk away. But, just as he got to the edge of the bar, he called over his shoulder, "You'll have to show them the tattoo!"

Harry shot a look up at his three friends, who were all staring at him with wide eyed expressions.

"You—you have a tattoo?" Ron asked incredulously.

Harry nodded. _Wonderful._

"Wait—why haven't we ever seen it?" Ginny wondered out loud.

"I never show it to anyone," he said simply, before taking a long gulp out of the butterbeer that had just been set down in front of him.

"I want to see it!" Hermione cried.

_I'll kill you for this, Al._

"Where is it?" Ginny giggled (the alcohol was slowly beginning to work through her system).

"On my back—hey, you lot can hear the story later, alright?" He attempted. They all seemed to be shooting daggers out of their eyes. "I—erm—keep a charm on it. That's why you've never seen it."

"You keep a _charm_ on it?" Hermione was unsuccessfully trying to stifle her giggles with a hand.

"YES!" he shouted, feeling exasperated. Was it _that_ difficult to understand?

From behind the four of them, they heard someone scream, "EXPELLIARMUS!" Immediately Harry's mind jumped to conclusions, thinking they were all under attack. He quickly decided it was daft of him to get so sloshed, especially when there were still dark wizards loose. He silently followed Ron through a mass of people toward the noise.

In front of him Ron started laughing. Hard.

As soon as Harry got to the edge of the crowd he realized he was not coming face to face with a Death Eater. Seamus Finnigan was completely inebriated and staggering about with half of a glowing wand in his hand. Nearby stood the life size statue of Harry, now wandless.

"Bloody hell, Finnigan!" Ron hooted. People in the crowd started to laugh.

"What'd you do?!" came Parvati's voice from behind them.

"Git insulted my mum—so I stole his wand!" he beamed proudly, holding up the broken object in triumph.

"Er—good job then, Seamus," Harry snorted.

"Wait a tick—I'm seeing… THERE'S TWO HARRY'S!" he shouted to no one in particular.

"I think someone needs to help him floo home," Ron announced.

After the laughter died down (and Dean Thomas helped get Seamus into the nearest fireplace) everyone went back to their respective conversations.

Harry was about to go off to find Al when he felt Ginny grab his hand and intertwine their fingers. She stood on her tiptoes slightly and leaned her lips against his ear. "Dance with me," she said softly. He wanted to protest, to tell her that he was a terrible dancer and she should ask someone who was actually _coordinated._ But when he turned to say all this out loud, he saw something in her eyes that made him stop. Desire. Her big brown eyes sparkled as they looked into his. A slight smile played on her lips. Everything he had been thinking over the last few days about their relationship disappeared and he found himself gripping her hand and leading her out onto the dance floor.

A slow, melodious song was playing. The nearby couples were laughing and talking to one another with extreme ease. Harry led her into the outskirts of the dancers and put a hand on her waist.

Harry gulped.

She twisted an arm around his shoulder. It felt like hot water was shooting over his entire body. He decided his face was probably as red as her hair. He took a chance and laced his fingers into her other hand. Ginny leaned in closer and rested their clasped hands on his chest.

_Oh Merlin this feels good._

It had been so long since he felt a woman's touch—well, touches like Ginny's. His muscles relaxed as they swayed slowly to the music, back and forth. A few other couples were watching them, most likely wondering if Harry was seeing this woman. For once, he didn't mind who was watching—he was drunk and happy and holding someone he'd spent years dreaming about.

o-o-o-o

Ginny breathed a huge sigh against Harry's neck. Opening her eyes slightly, she noticed the gooseflesh playing atop his skin.

_Good to know I'm getting a reaction. True, we're both feeling the affects of a night of alcohol, but don't true emotions come out when you have no control over them? Mine sure do._

She found herself staring at the evident muscles that were visible from underneath his t-shirt. This was a far cry from the skinny, messy-haired boy she'd followed around at Hogwarts. Auror training had done quite a bit to toughen him up. She nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck and her forehead brushed against his chin ever so slightly. His five-o-clock shadow was scratchy, but extremely sensual. He felt so—manly? Was that really the word she was looking for?

A few minutes passed by and the two of them just rocked back and forth. Each minute served to further close the gap between their two bodies. In no time at all, her torso was pressed against his. She could feel every twitch, every muscle, perhaps even every heartbeat.

_Oh Merlin this feels good._

* * *

xxxxxxxxflashbackxxxxxxxxx

_Hogwarts: Harry's seventh year_

_It had all started with the article in the Daily Prophet in early January. Rita Skeeter hadn't broken her promise to Hermione; she had waited an entire year before writing __anything (outside of the Quibbler article, of course). Unfortunately for Harry (and the Weasleys in the long run) she had not used that time to rethink her ethics. _

_It was five minutes before Draco Malfoy waltzed by and tossed a newspaper on the Gryffindor table, grinning maliciously at Harry. "I see you've managed to steal a spot in the headline already this year, Potter," he had sneered before stalking off with Crabbe and Goyle, leaving the Great Hall._

**Harry's Honey**

Harry James Potter, 17, has recently been spotted in the company of a new sort of friend. Known to thousands as "The-Boy-Who-Lived" and the one who ended Voldemort's first rise to power, Potter has spent the last few years relatively unattached. _Daily Prophet_ journalist, Rita Skeeter, reports that he has finally settled down with Hogwarts's own Ginerva Molly Weasley, daughter of Ministry worker Arthur Weasley. Ginevra also happens to be the younger sister of Harry's best friend, Ronald Bilius Weasley, 17.

Ginny, as she is called by friends and family, is one of Hogwarts's top students, a chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and part of the elite group known as 'Dumbledore's Army.' Lately, she seems to be keeping company with the famous. She and Potter are rarely seen out of one-another's company and have become very close, as you can probably see from the photo exclusive (attached was a picture, to Harry's horror, of Ginny and him cuddling under the bleachers after a Quidditch match)!

Harry Potter has previously been linked with Hermione Jane Granger, 17, a Muggle born in her last year at Hogwarts and Cho Charise Chang, 18, now a designer for _Pointed Hat!_ An anonymous source close to the couple says they are very much in love. Hearts are breaking all over the wizarding world as one of the most attractive up-and-coming bachelors is snatched up. The staff here at the _Daily Prophet_, however, would like to wish the young couple the best of luck!

_Ron, who hadn't been privy to the information doled easily out by the newspaper, was furious with both Harry and Ginny for nearly a week afterward. Hermione had dutifully tried to explain that he wasn't angry that they were dating but because they had hidden it from everyone. Harry had soon thereafter forced Ron to sit down and talk about his feelings._

o-o-o-o

"_Ron! I'm bloody sorry I didn't tell you... but we _never_ talk about these things anyway," he yelled._

"_That's not a good enough excuse, Harry! What—are you embarrassed about dating her?!" Ron was slowly turning a livid shade of red._

"_OF COURSE NOT! You're a daft bastard—I love your little sister!"_ He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"_WHAT?!" _(He looked completely shocked… and rightly so. His best mate had just confessed to loving Ginny Weasley).

_Harry sighed and fell backward onto his bed. "I'm in love with Ginny."_

_"Oh."_

_"Yeah." _Was Ron going to punch him now?

_"Good."_

Okay, that was unexpected.

_"Yeah?"_

_"Of course, mate." He pulled a chair out from a nearby desk and sat down across from Harry. "Look—I really can't... nobody else would be good enough for her."_

_"Thanks. I guess—I really didn't know how to tell you." This was completely true, he had _wanted_ to tell him. But how are you supposed to explain to your best mate that you're snogging his sister?_

_"So, how long has this been going on?"_

_"Dunno—since November I guess." He thought about it for a minute, "Maybe it was the game against Hufflepuff."_

_"You've been snogging my sister fo--?"_

_"I'M NOT SNOGG—we haven't...." Okay, so this wasn't _exactly_ the truth. It wasn't like the two of them were sneaking off in the middle of the night with his invisibility cloak. They weren't Seamus and Lavender by any means. Harry still considered himself to be just as awkward with girls as he was fifth year. He leaned forward and sighed, "I'm just worried. Now that everyone knows—what if he comes after her... or your family? If anything happened to any of you I would—."_

_"Bugger that, it'll be fine, Harry. We're at Hogwarts—there isn't anywhere safer. And mum and dad can take care of themselves. My brothers too—well... okay maybe not Percy but he's probably a Death Eater himself."_

_Suddenly the dormitory door banged violently open admitting a panting, red-faced Hermione. "RON WEASLEY, DON'T YOU—Oh... er—hello."_

_"Bloody hell Hermione!"_

_"Ron, language!"_

_"Did you—erm—need something?" Harry asked, eyeing her carefully._

_She put her hand on her hip and made a loud, annoyed huffing sound, "Neville said the two of you were having a blazing row. I _thought_ I'd come up here to moderate. But—it looks like you're getting along just fine, yeah?"_

_Ron glanced at Harry quickly before nodding an affirmation. He jabbed a finger in his friend's direction and said, "Harry here thinks the Death Eaters are going to kill my family since he's dating Ginny."_

_"I'm more worried about Ginny!" Harry argued, rolling his eyes indignantly. "They could apparate here and kidnap her—just becau…"_

_Hermione interrupted him with a low growling noise. She shifted her weight and sighed loudly, "HOW many TIMES do I have to tell you?! You _CAN'T_ apparate anywhere NEAR Hogwarts. Honestly! It's our 7th Year, haven't either of you read _Hogwarts, a History_ yet?_

o-o-o-o

_In the end, Ron had been wrong. Five Death Eaters, led by Rodolphus Lestrange, attacked the Burrow on Valentine's Day of the same year taking Bill, Percy, and Mr. Weasley hostage. Voldemort had contacted Harry via neural message (he still hadn't properly learned Occulmency) threatening to kill them unless Harry gave himself up. Luckily, Mad-Eye Moody was able to discover their whereabouts in a short amount of time. Arthur and Percy had been delivered safely home. _

_Bill was still missing._

_That's when Harry broke it off with Ginny. _

Xxxxxxxxxxx_end flashback_xxxxxxxxxx

* * *

Remus Lupin made his way through the flocks of people, carefully trying not to knock drinks over or step on toes. Midway through a large group of laughing young Aurors he saw something that made his stomach drop to his knees, his heart skip a beat, and a large bulge settle somewhere in his trachea.

James and Lily Potter were swaying slowly to the soft music, holding one another tightly. Lily's eyes were closed and she was resting her head on James' shoulder. His back was to Remus, but the messy-haired man had one arm wrapped lovingly around his wife's waist and the fingers of his other hand were tangled in hers. As Remus looked on, James nuzzled his nose into her bright red hair. Lily smiled sweetly and opened her eyes.

Her eyes were brown.

Remus was torn out of his state of shock. Deep down he had known it was impossible for the Potters to be dancing together out there. He took a deep breath and tried in vain to regain his composure. _They are dead,_ he muttered to himself. Most of the time he refused to let himself think about his old friends. It was heart wrenching to look at pictures or read notes from their Hogwarts days; especially those concerning the Marauders. He had spent long hours convincing himself the pain would eventually dull. During the years that Peter was 'dead' and Sirius was in Azkaban, Remus had traveled Europe trying to forget. Until this moment, he'd never understood what this meant.

He had never let himself forget.

A few times in the past twenty-one years he had thought about the end of the war. The dream was always the same. They were laughing; Sirius would be setting off Filibuster fireworks while Lily bounced Harry on her knee, James would be explaining the finer points of Quidditch to an utterly confused Peter. It was always the same though—the Marauders were together; alive and well.

_That isn't how it turned out_ said the voice in his head. He had spent long hours after Sirius died wishing his own end would come. Three of his best friends were dead and the other a traitor. These were the same people who had undergone Animagus transformations at the tender age of 15 so he wouldn't be alone in his werewolf state. His friends had been brave and loyaland none of them lived long enough even to watch Harry grow up. Remus took another deep breath and forced the salty tears back. The time to cry was long past.

_It's time to bury the dead and come to terms with it. It's time to celebrate the lives they lived and move on._

First though, he needed to talk to Harry.

Once again he looked at the dancing couple. Harry looked so content. It was fitting, wasn't it? The woman Harry had fallen in love with was almost the exact replica of Harry's own mother. With their eyes closed and their faces partially hidden by shadows, one could easily mistake the dancing couple for Lily and James as he himself had done not moments before.

Deciding not to interrupt them, Remus set off to find Tonks. He would talk to Harry another time.

o-o-o-o

Ron followed George through the heavily intoxicated crowd toward the mildly secluded adjoining room. Apparently, the twins were planning some sort of interactive game for a few members of the D.A. As the two brothers passed the dance floor, George glanced back at Ron and jerked his head to the right. Ron followed his gaze and saw his little sister happily engulfed in the arms of his best friend. Harry must have felt him staring because not a second later he looked up and grinned sheepishly. Ron wagged his eyebrows and continued to follow George through the dancing couples.

He rarely attempted to broach the subject of Harry's love life, mostly because over the past few years it had been relatively nonexistent. Harry cared more about getting through Auror training and finding a 4 way to defeat Voldemort than finding a decent female companion. Ron assumed part of the reason for this was because Harry and Ginny had ended things extremely abruptly during his 7th year. The entire Weasley clan had wasted a considerable amount of effort pleading with the couple to rethink the end of their relationship. But it was a pointless task trying to convince Harry that Bill's disappearance wasn't his fault. And Ginny had simply repeated over and over that if they were meant to be together it would all work out in the end. Ron believed neither of them ever _really_ got over the other. Perhaps now that the war was officially over they would be able to figure things out.

The walls of the lounge area were covered from floor to ceiling with odd solar system-inspired wallpaper. The stars twinkled and a half moon was floating near the middle of the ceiling. Across the floor were strewn about twenty moon-rock shaped bean bag chairs. Loads of his fellow D.A. members were squished comfortably in their seats. Most of them waved at him in greeting. Hermione was amongst them, holding a bottle of Chocolate Pensieve and laughing along with something Parvati and Lavender were saying. Her thick brown hair fell loosely about her shoulders and her cheeks were the color of rose petals. _Most likely due to the alcohol._

"Ron!" she cried, waving him over frantically. "We're all playing a game! It's loads of fun, will you join?"

He smiled and crossed the room to settle into the beanbag chair next to hers. Ron's head was no longer buzzing from intoxication; he hadn't had anything to drink in the past half hour or so. Hermione, on the other hand, was probably going to be in for a rough night.

"For those of you who just joined us, these (he held up a small, wrapped piece of candy) are Tell-all-Taffies!" Fred stated proudly.

"They have a small trace of Veritaserum in them. The truth serum inside lasts only until the taffy has completely dissolved…" George continued.

"Or swallowed," Fred interrupted.

"Yes, thank you Fred—or swallowed, forcing you to answer one or two questions completely honestly."

"So, to continue—Katie, it's your turn to ask someone a question."

Katie Bell seemed to be deep in thought. After a minute of silence she leaned over toward Alicia Spinnet and whispered something in her ear. The two girls broke out in fits of giggles. "Alright, _Lee_," she began, grabbing a piece of candy out of the basket and tossing it in his direction, "During your seventh year, tell us who _really_ dumped two pounds of Octopus tentacles into Montague's cauldron during the N.E.W.T. examination."

Lee Jordan, who was furiously sucking on his pink taffy, choked for a second and turned beat red. "It wath me," he managed to say despite having candy stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Right good job, mate!" shouted Fred.

"Finished our noble work, you did," George agreed, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. Everyone in the room laughed happily along with them, clapping Lee on the back.

Hermione abruptly broke out in fits of giggles. Ron raised his eyebrows questioningly but this only made her clutch her stomach and crumple out of her beanbag chair making odd squeaking noises. "EFIW…!" she heaved.

"_What?!_" queried Lavender. She too seemed to be catching Hermione's bug but was desperately trying to conceal her giggles.

"S—snor…" She wheezed, "MAI!"

"You're quite funny when drunk, you know," Parvati hiccupped.

"Oct—octopus tentacles would've…" More laughter, "turned him into a—."

"Gigantic man-eating slug—it was very amusing to watch him squirm after the Potion's examiner in the Great Hall," Lee observed keenly.

The room erupted in deafening laughter.

The next half hour was spent in the same fashion. Ron was fondly reminded of their days in Gryffindor tower, laughing with ease. There were only a few minute differences between the Hogwarts parties and this one. The obvious one being the legal consumption of alcohol; aside from that, the seemingly mindless chatter was upbeat. There was no discussion of Muggle disappearances or family members being murdered. This new air that surrounded them was placid and enjoyable.

"Alright, alright, calm down everyone!" Fred was heard saying. "I believe our next question goes to the illustrious Hermione Granger."

Ron nudged Hermione, who was curled up like a cat in his lap. She was looking worn but smiled nonetheless.

"Don't they make an _adorable_ pair?" George slurred dramatically.

"Entirely." Harry had just entered the room, Ginny at his side.

"Harry! Ginny! So glad the two of you could—err—unwind yourselves and join us," Fred smirked.

"Shut it, Fred," Ginny said simply. Before George could comment, she whipped around and wagged a finger in his direction also. "That goes for you too, dear brother. We were only dancing!"

Harry plopped down in Hermione's vacant chair and leaned back. "So, what sort of trouble are the two of you planning now?"

George quickly explained the rules of the game to the new participants. Harry, Ron noted, seemed extremely reluctant to join in. This was most likely due to the fact that he was very tight lipped about certain past events. After a few minutes of obnoxious banter with the twins, during which, the group became somewhat larger with the addition of a handful of people (including Remus and Tonks), he finally agreed.

"So," stated George over the loud whispers, "Hermione." He tossed her a taffy which she sucked daintily through her lips. "I think we would _all_ like to know… how serious _are you_ about my dear brother, Ronald?"

The room became deathly quiet.

If Hermione was flustered she did a right good job of hiding it. "Fairly serious," she said pointedly.

Ron and Harry shot one another a satisfied smile. She had, after all, answered the question.

"_Come on_, we want to know DETAILS!" Lavender pressed.

"Will we be calling you Mrs. Ronald Bilius Weasley anytime soon?" Alicia asked innocently.

"You can call me that anytime you like," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

"I think Ickle-Ronnie-kins is hiding something!" Fred hammered on. He obviously wasn't about to let the subject go. Ron was furtively trying to think up diversionary tactics when Ginny spoke up.

"I think it's Hermione's turn to ask a question!" she cried, shooting a meaningful glare in Fred's direction.

"Hmm—okay. Harry!" she grinned mischievously.

Harry paled.

Angelina made to throw a tell-all-taffy in his direction but Hermione stopped her. "No, I think this one can be done without the candy. _I_ want to hear the stripper story."

"Er—I think it'd be a good idea to have Al here for that one."

"Oh, don't you worry Harry—I'll go get him!" Tonks said quickly, a devilish smile playing about her lips. She obviously wanted to hear the story as much as the next person.

"_Wonderful_, thanks _Nymphadora_," he shot back venomously.

Ron could tell he wasn't really mad (lack of shouting being the biggest clue). But Harry seemed wary of reliving whatever events this story encompassed. Still though, he couldn't help but join in. "So you're serious about having a tattoo?"

o-o-o-o

Allard Baldwin was leaning haughtily against the edge of the brightly lit bar, mulled mead in hand. He was in the middle of an intense flirting match with a beautiful, curly haired woman; Abby... was that what she had said her name was? _Maybe it was Aggy—that had to be it._ He had realized a few minutes back that he hadn't _really_ been listening to a thing she was saying. This was normal for Al, though. After taking another long drink from his mug he flashed another charming smile.

"Oy! Al!" came a familiar voice from behind him.

Turning around he saw a thin witch approaching. She had short brown hair and a huge grin plastered on her cute face. "Hey Tonks," he said smoothly, still trying to impress the woman standing next to him.

"Hey—come with me," she said, reaching a hand out and giving one of his hands a little tug.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Couldn't she see that he was in the middle of something? "Is this a matter of life or death?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and put a hand on her hip. "The only way I'm _finally_ going to hear that story you've been boasting about for the past year is if you come to the back room."

"HA!" he shouted, throwing a fist triumphantly into the air. "Potter's finally going to tell it. I've been waiting _forever_ for this day." He turned to his female companion who was now scowling at him with a hint of exasperation. He decided he should invite her along. "Mandy—did you want to join me?"

The aforementioned preposition didn't get the reaction he was expecting. She replied in a huffy sort of voice, "It's _Nancy_, and maybe another time."

"Was it something I said?" he asked Tonks dejectedly.

"Isn't it always?" she asked innocently.

He returned the smug expression and followed her toward the lounge area. He grabbed the hand of an attractive blonde Auror trainee (coincidentally, her name was Trini—okay, _he_ thought it was hilarious). She giggled a goodbye to a few friends and let him pull her toward the back.

Once inside the next room he glanced around at the pink, happy faces. He recognized most of them from the few D.A. meetings he had attended with Harry. During the last few weeks of Voldemort's reign, the Aurors had all put in time working with Dumbledore's Army. He knew Ron and Hermione were close friends of Harry's—he had spoken often of them. Furthermore, Ron worked at the Ministry in the Department for Magical Games and Sports and Hermione in the Committee for Experimental Charms. Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson were superb chasers for the Montrose Magpies, Fred and George Weasley owned Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Susan Bones was an intern at St. Mungo's, and Luna Lovegood wrote strange articles for _The Quibbler._

"Hey, Harry—I was just thinking…" he started to say.

"_There's_ a shocker." He smirked back.

Al barked a laugh in his friend's direction and continued, "I was _thinking_ that it's probably not a good idea to have all the Aurors here getting sloshed."

"Don't worry about that, Baldwin!" Tonks said, slapping him harshly on the shoulder, "Mad-Eye's keeping shop. He was mumbling something about 'Damn kids... skiving off their duties,' when I left earlier."

Al nodded and took a seat across from Harry. He leaned backward in the beanbag and Trini sat down near his feet.

"Alright," Harry said after Al got himself settled. "Where shall I start?"

"The assignment!" he said, crossing his hands behind his neck and leaning into them. It was always entertaining to listen to Harry tell stories--especially when he was completely embarrassed.

"Well—I can't tell you everything about it because... well... it was supposed to be a secret operation. But, it was last year about this time—October or so. Al (he jabbed a finger in Al's direction) and I were poly-juicing as Lucius and Draco Malfoy when they were apprehended the first time for being followers of Voldemort."

"They went to Azkaban?" Hermione asked.

"No—we never got that far with the evidence. They were just—err—hidden away for a bit to give us time to uncover a few secrets," Al answered swiftly. He wanted Harry to get to the good part.

"Wait—so how many times has Lucius _been_ in Azkaban?" Luna asked, apparently stumped.

"Dunno—three or four times. He's never actually been convicted of anything," Al said.

"So anyway, we arranged a meeting with a woman we THOUGHT was a secretary of some sort for the Malfoy family," Harry continued.

Al snorted. "Wouldn't have made that great of a secretary."

"Not at all." Harry glanced around the room before taking a deep breath and smiling at Al. "Apparently she offers a different kind of service for the Malfoys."

"They have a professional _Hooker_?" gaped Ron.

"Would you expect better?" Angelina piped up, "This _is_ Draco Malfoy we're talking about."

"Yeah, well—I guess that thought didn't even occur to me. So the plan was this—I was supposed to keep the—erm—_secretary_ occupied while Al here searched the mansion for any sort of files or clues," Harry said. He was beginning to seem vaguely uncomfortable. "She—kept… err… advancing at me and I wasn't sure what to do so I tried to keep her talking. But that didn't go over well... wasn't that much of a conversationalist. _Meanwhile_, Al was _supposed_ to be searching the Malfoy's office but had found something better to occupy his time with."

"It was for the good of our mission!" he cried indignantly. Okay, maybe that last part wasn't so truthful. He _had_ been searching until a certain… distraction entered.

"You were trying to seduce some cousin or niece of the Malfoys!" Harry protested.

"I was _trying_ to see if she knew anything useful!"

"You were _trying_ to get in her pants!"

"Weren't you still in Poly-Juice form?" asked Remus Lupin. He had an amused smile plastered on his face.

"Well—yeah... but I played a _very_ convincing Lucius Malfoy!"

"I'm sure you did, Baldwin, but that _isn't_ the point of the story," Harry laughed. "While he was entertaining blood relatives I was trying not to sabotage the mission or lose my virginity. And let me tell you, she was putting up a _right _good fight!"

This statement was followed by raucous laughter from the other people in the room. One of the twins (Al wasn't sure which) made a comment which turned Harry quite pink.

"Hey, leave him alone... it was a year ago!" the other twin retorted. Once again these comments were followed by high pitched giggles.

"Yeah, our Harry is _Witch Weekly_'_s_ #1 Bachelor!" Alicia Spinnet added. "I'm sure he's not a virgin anymore!"

Harry turned a fierce shade of magenta and looked down at his hands. Al grinned at his reaction. He knew Harry had dated a few people nonexclusively during the few years he had been out of Hogwarts. Whenever Al would bring up the topic of Harry's love life, he would clam up. The subject of his own short relationships, however, was broached quite often. Harry insisted Al had some sort of commitment complex. Al insisted Harry was pining for some lost love. If Harry had lost his virginity at _any_ point in the past year he sure as hell hadn't told Al about it.

"Just leave him alone, you lot!" Ron said fiercely, obviously protecting his best friend. "It's his business… besides, I want to hear the rest of the story!"

Ginny, who was sitting next to Harry, seemed to recoil a bit. Perhaps she was the one whom they were referring to?

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I lamely suggested that we do something else and she and Malfoy apparently had plans to—go get a tattoo later on that day. I guess she has some sort of discount card…"

"In other words she was sleeping with the manager." Al stated. The group laughed.

"Right—well… I told her that we needed to go find my _father_ first and she seemed to think that was rather odd. So instead I cursed Allard Baldwin's name and swore that if I saw him again I would have a right nasty hex ready for him." Everyone laughed as he continued. "So anyhow, we set off to this place and the whole time I was trying to think of a way out of it."

"What was her name?" asked Katie Bell. She was accepting a new Droobles Best Bubblegum Rum from a heavyset waitress.

"Dunno—Brandy or Mindy or something. She looked like a grindylow on a bad hair day," he replied.

"Well, in school Malfoy couldn't get anyone better than pug-face Parkinson," Ron laughed.

"Ron—that's terrible! She wasn't _all_ bad!" Hermione argued. Evidently the buzz that had been plaguing her for the past few hours was beginning to wear off.

"She's in _Azkaban_ Hermione," he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"_ANYWAY_," Harry pressed on, "We got there and I tried saying that there wasn't anything that caught my eye and she looked at me even _more_ strangely. I guess this was a previously set up thing. So I tried one more time to raise Al on the telefloo and—sucked it up."

"You went _through with it_?" Angelina asked, in awe.

Al was expecting this reaction although he still wasn't sure if Harry would show it to them. He had only seen his tattoo once—after the fact when he was in a blind rage. The story was quite humorous now but definitely hadn't been at the time; especially when Harry had tattooed the word 'wanker' on Al's forehead and refused to take it off for an entire week.

"I had to." He said simply.

"So…" Luna started to say.

"Can we see it?" finished Alicia.

"Err…"

"C'mon Harry!" cried a few people.

Harry blushed and nodded. He stood, rather awkwardly, and turned so his back was to the crowd. Taking one last, defeated breath he lifted his shirt over his head. A few of the girls around the circle tried stifling giggles (including Trini, still leaning against Al's legs) at the sight of Harry's bare back. At twenty-one, his body was in far better shape then it had been at Hogwarts. The Aurors endured daily training sessions and even though Harry had spent the last few months incapacitated, he was still a far shot from the lanky 14-year-old Gryffindor Al had watched compete in the Tri-Wizard tournament.

Harry took his wand out of his back pocket (yes, he _still_ kept it there despite Moody's constant warnings about losing a buttock) and pointed it near the middle of his back. "Finite Incantatem." Almost immediately a red glow shot from his wand and settled in a patch between his shoulder blades. The light sat and shimmered for a minute before disappearing just as suddenly, leaving behind a walnut sized golden ball with two little wings sprouting out of either end; Harry's golden snitch.

"Thank Merlin Malfoy has the same interests as you," giggled Parvati.

Harry spun back around. "Never say that again!"

"Harry! It isn't _that_ bad!" Hermione said soothingly.

"Not at all… in fact—it's rather sexy," Padma added.

Harry turned to Ron, looking for his best friend's opinion. Ron just shrugged, "I agree with Hermione—besides, loads of people have them."

Harry seemed a little relieved by this reaction. "Anyway—that's the story."

"Wait—what _were_ you doing all that time?" Ginny asked, turning abruptly toward Al.

"Discovering top secret information imperative to the Malfoy case," Al replied quickly with as much emphasis as he could muster.

"In other words he was snogging some second cousin of Narcissa's in Lucius's body," Harry quipped.

"Something about that just sounds so _wrong_..." Ron sniggered lightly.

Glancing down at the beautiful woman sitting at his feet, Al decided that if he had any chance at all of taking her home that night, he would have to nox the conversation. Seeing no other option, he interrupted Ron. "Well, as fun as this is," Al said, rising to his feet and bringing Trini with him, "I am going to have to cut the jeers short. See you on Monday, Potter—and you, Miss Weasley."

A chorus of goodnights followed him out of the small room.

o-o-o-o

Not to long after Al had departed, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny said their own goodbyes.

Ginny had been acting different toward Harry for about an hour; Harry guessed it was because of the conversation they had been having. He had tried not to answer when Alicia had made that comment. Everyone that knew Harry _knew_ he was a terrible liar. He always blushed and stuttered. _Besides,_ he thought to himself,_ I'm twenty-one! It's not that big of a deal!_ Ginny obviously felt very different. As he walked up the stairs toward his bedroom at the headquarters, he tried to get her to talk to him. Part of Harry wanted to explain things and the other part had firmly decided it was none of her business. Torn, he settled on just saying goodnight. It had been a long, alcohol filled evening and the last thing he wanted to do was get into a row before bed.

"Well… night," he said lamely. _Potter, you're a daft bastard._ "I—er—had fun."

"Right… (extended pause) goodnight." And with a flip of her short hair, she strode the rest of the way down the hallway, swaying her hips as she went.

Harry ran a hand through his tangled black hair and sighed. Across the hall, Ron opened his bedroom door. "How'd it go, mate?"

"Dunno—she's not really talking to me," he admitted sadly.

"Yeah, well… right surprise for her, yeah?" Ron asked, leaning against the door frame.

"I didn't mean for her to find out—or anyone." This was completely true—years of being tight lipped about his love life had left him unable to discuss it with even the closest of friends, save Ron.

"Well—I can talk to her if you'd like…"

"S'alright, Ron. She'll come around eventually."

"Maybe you should tell h--."

"No. I don't want to talk about it. She wouldn't understand." Harry opened his mouth to say something else but thought better of it and closed it once again. "Well… g'night."

"Night, Harry."

Harry retreated into his room and shut the door behind him. His first day back in the public eye of wizarding society hadn't been all bad. Work had gone along just fine and the party had been quite entertaining. As he pulled on his pajamas, Harry saw the untouched stack of mail on his dresser. He had forgotten about it completely. Hedwig was delivering his post to the Weasley's house until he moved out of Grimmauld Place. _Oh well,_ he thought, _I'll look at this weekend._

He pulled off his glasses and climbed into bed, silently hoping for dreamless sleep.

* * *

I decided to drop a little characterization hint. I'm not sure if anyone is even trying to figure out who this woman is, but here's the meaning of her last name.

Carden – From the fortress of Black


	4. The Bending Genealogical Tree

**Title: **The Bending Genealogical Tree

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter—JK Rowling does.

**Notes:** First off, I drop a TON of hints about the future in this chapter. I believe my beta is going to kill me for it, actually. There is an especially good one that is way obvious but you definitely have to pay attention to see: I am particularly proud of this one and am looking forward to the day when I can tell you all about it.

Secondly, I would like to thank my pre-beta (she suffers through hearing about my evil plot twists day after day), my dear cousin. She corrects my punctuation quite often and is responsible for the ends of many a sentence in this fair drama (_and_ she doesn't say to my face that she's a way better writer than me).

THIRDLY... I hope not to sound redundant, so I wrote the following poem for my wonderful beta. (And, I would like to tell you that I was really sleepy and attempting to find a way to stick a bunch of leaves in Ginny's hair. The only sentence I could come up with was 'Harry began picking twigs out of her long, orange hair like a mother monkey does to her young.' I thought you'd get a quick giggle out of that.

Anyway...

**Ode to my Beta**

You give me inspiration

And check my punctuation

You say with jubilation,

"What a wonderful creation!"

You are le manchot du destin

**-----------------------**

Flashback: _Ginny's sixth year at Hogwarts_

_Despite the slowly climbing temperatures of March, Ginny's teeth were chattering. She had been sitting outside in the same position for the last hour and a half. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that every member of the Weasley family was wondering where she was; but right then, she didn't much care. She leaned against the large birch tree and took a deep breath. Countless times over the past week she had wondered why this had happened to her family. Her mother could deny it all she wanted but it still came down to her relationship with Harry. Ginny had overheard a conversation between her parents upon her father and Percy's return. The Death Eaters had held the three Weasley men hostage in order to get Harry to leave the safety of Hogwarts. Luckily, the Aurors had found them before Harry was able to do anything stupid._

_But then there was Bill; sweet, caring Bill. Bellatrix had used a portkey and they both had disappeared. Who knew where he was now. Would they keep him to torture for information? Ginny shuddered, he never deserved that kind of treatment... no one did._

_She didn't want to blame Harry; he definitely hadn't asked to be born with a mortal enemy. It really wasn't his fault. And she loved him. Ginny wanted to scream in protest over the unfairness of her situation! She felt so trapped. She was in love with a man who was brave and noble and powerful... but if she stayed with him her whole family would be in danger. Life never seemed fair!_

_"Ginny?" called a soft voice from somewhere behind her._

_Harry had found her; she'd known he would. He approached her cautiously, as if he was afraid she'd start to yell at him. He wove through the trees that were giant, ominous shadows in the moonless night. He saw that Ginny was shivering. Harry pulled his heavy cloak over his head and wrapped it around her shoulders._

_Ginny smiled weakly. "I was wondering when someone would find me."_

_"Everyone was worried."_

_"I'm sorry," Ginny lied. She chanced a look at Harry's face. His almond-shaped eyes looked back at her with compassion._

_"I–I suppose we need to..." Harry stumbled for the right words. Were there any right words? _

_She knew what he was thinking._

_"Talk." There, he had said the words out loud. They weren't too painful, were they?_

_"I know."_

_"This was all my fault—I shouldn't have let the whole world know we were seeing each other—Rita Skeeter's article ruined everything—Bill's gone and I'm the one to blame." Harry said it all in one breath._

_"Don't say that ever again!" Ginny burst out._

_The wind stopped blowing for a quick second, as if it knew what was happening._

_"You're famous because you were born The-Boy-Who-Lived... it isn't your fault," Ginny sighed. "And if Rita Skeeter hadn't written something, someone else would have. It was inevitable. We shouldn't have assumed we could go on like that for long."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_How many times were they going to say those words tonight?_

_Harry took a deep breath. "Maybe someday this will all work out. For now, I need to make sacrifices to keep the people I love safe."_

_"You're sacrificing your happiness for my family?" She laughed bitterly. "It's a bit ironic, isn't it? You're giving up a Weasley to keep the rest of the Weasleys."_

_Harry crouched down to her level, and put his hands on either side of her face. With his thumbs, he wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "I'll never give you up, Ginerva."_

_"I love you... so much." She bit her lip to try and stop it from trembling, but it was too late. Ginny was crying freely now. She didn't care if he thought she was weak and she didn't give a damn if anyone else was watching from the shadows._

_Harry gathered her into his arms and twisted her body around so that he was cradling her small form. Her long red hair was cold and dripping with tears as he tried to calm her. He patted the top of her head, awkwardly at first, then, began running his fingers through the ginger tangles. He tried to free a few stray leaves but gave up when they simply broke apart in his fingers._

_"I love you too," he whispered into her ear. "After this war is over... if I'm still..." he gulped and tightened his grip._

_"Hide, Harry." She desperately wanted them both to see the war through. If Voldemort killed Harry... she clung to him and sniffed into his shoulder._

_"I can't."_

_She knew he wouldn't. Harry Potter didn't have the ability to run. Was she weak for asking him to?_

_"I have to face him."_

_"When?" Did she really want to know the answer to that question?_

_"Soon." Harry nuzzled his face into her hair and took a deep breath. "I'll wait for you. I couldn't..." he looked like he was on the verge of tears now. Ginny had never seen him cry. Harry had always been so strong. Even after he found out the contents of the prophesy, he hadn't shed a tear over his future. Not a single tear that Ginny had seen. Now, his cheeks were blotchy and felt cold against her own. _

_"Just promise me one thing," Ginny breathed._

_"Hmm?"_

_"Allow yourself to have some fun while you're training to be an Auror. Don't mourn me–I'll still be here when you get back." Did that sound foolish? She didn't really care. As beautiful the thought of him saving himself for her was, she couldn't bear knowing he wasn't enjoying his time out of Hogwarts. "And write to me."_

_"The thought of fun makes my stomach churn. But I will write to you, I can promise that." He pulled her long red hair off her cheek and brushed his lips against her skin, still soggy with tears. "I will always love you."_

* * *

Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Sunlight was streaming through her partially opened window, and a chilly November breeze was softly moving her curtains. She twisted her body out of the mess of covers and casually threw on her dressing robe. Opening her bedroom door, she quietly moved into the hallway and descended down the wooden steps toward the kitchen.

Harry was standing near the stove, his back to Ginny. He was dressed only in a pair of pajama bottoms. Obviously, he wasn't expecting anyone to be awake this early in the morning. She got a quick glimpse of the snitch tattoo on his back and shuddered. He hadn't been charming it lately, probably due to the fact that everyone had already seen it. Part of her couldn't help noticing that it made his back look sexy. Scolding herself, Ginny quickly made a left turn and silently continued into the sitting room.

Perhaps it had been naive to think he had waited for her all this time. It had been four years, for heavens sake! Harry Potter was an attractive, famous twenty-one-year-old Auror who just happened to be a big git. _I mean REALLY,_ she thought to herself, _he could have at least mentioned that he wasn't spending his days pining over me anymore! Or Ron could have said something. I am his sister!_

So she had gone on a few dates over the past few years. Nothing serious! And Harry had written her continuously while he was in Auror training! He had signed every single letter '_with love from Harry.' _Didn't that mean anything?! _Of course not!_

She silently cursed herself for being so ridiculous about the whole ordeal. Just because he had admitted to sleeping with someone didn't mean she had to get all worked up. Was it that big of a deal?

_Of course it's a big deal, you sodding idiot! Sex is _always_ a big deal!_

Maybe he didn't think so.

_Bullocks to you, Harry James Potter_. Until he explained himself she wasn't going to let him off the hook. He knew she was irritated. Ginny had spent the past three weeks in a constant state of annoyance.

_Sodding Harry Potter_

**

* * *

**

Harry didn't get around to opening the large stacks of mail piled around his room for about three weeks. By that time, the piles were so large Hermione and Ron forced him to spend the better part of a Saturday picking through the vast array of cards, packages, and gifts from well-wishers.

"We're starting a new pile!" Ron announced suddenly. The three friends were lying sprawled out on the over-sized drawing room floor surrounded by crumpled envelopes and loose paper.

"New pile?" Hermione asked sarcastically, gesturing at the dozen or so piles which were already started.

Ron nodded. "This will henceforth be known as the marriage proposal pile!" he stated, tossing a pink note down next to him.

"Or we could just add it to the 'I'm a crazy lunatic' stack by the piano," Harry replied.

A voice from the double doors gave them all chills. "Going through your fan mail, _Potter_?" Snape sneered. The Order of the Phoenix had taken over the task of collecting case evidence for the accused Death Eaters. This meant that members of the Hogwarts staff were constantly seen at Grimmauld Place.

A million nasty retorts popped into Harry's head in that moment. How many times in the past ten years had he heard Snape's voice and wanted to reply with a rude or witty remark? _Too many to count! _But something stopped him. "Actually—yes, I am," Harry replied nonchalantly. He desperately tried to keep the edge out of his voice.

"Harry," Ron quickly cut in, "you aren't gay are you?"

"What!?"

"Oh, never mind then… some wizard in Zimbabwe wants to know."

Harry stared at him incredulously, before rolling his eyes. "Ron, I am not even going to dignify that with a response." He looked back at the doorframe to see Snape stalking away.

"Here's one that wants to know if Ron is married," Hermione quipped. "Can I add that to the stack?"

"No way, I'm keeping that one," Ron laughed, grabbing the letter from Hermione's clenched fist.

She scowled.

"Where is the pile for the witches claiming that I'm the father of their illegitimate children?" Harry asked, holding up a long piece of parchment with loopy blue lettering.

"Next to the fireplace," Hermione replied absentmindedly, reading a short blue note that smelled strongly of perfume.

"Why not IN the fireplace?" asked Harry, looking longingly at the giant orange flames. He crumpled the letter up and tossed it across the room where it came to rest next to the growing mess of papers.

"Ron couldn't throw it that far," Hermione said, tossing a smirk in said person's direction.

"Shut it, Hermione!" Ron yelped.

"Harry…" Hermione said calmly, choosing to ignore the dirty looks Ron was now shooting her.

"Hmm?"

"You don't have any illegitimate children… do you?"

"Hermione!" he barked. She wasn't usually so direct with her questions.

"Well… I mean you have—you know…" she stuttered. A pink tinge was settling on her cheeks.

"Hermione!" Ron snapped.

Harry felt his own cheeks turning red. "You know," he said, trying to sound good natured, "If you're doing it you _should_ be able to say the words."

"Just leave it be." Ron attempted.

"Ronald! I'm trying to show interest in Harry's life!"

"No, you're trying to be nosy," Ron shot back.

Hermione made an odd sort of huffing noise, "well I don't understand why I don't already know."

Harry tried for a minute to put himself in her position… out of the loop. Would he feel dejected if he didn't know the nature of Ron and her relationship? _Probably_, _but that doesn't mean I should tell her. _"Hermione… it's just—really personal," he said softly, trying to get her to follow Ron's lead and drop the matter.

She still seemed rather miffed. "I guess I just feel…" she stopped and sighed. "I didn't even know you were seeing anyone exclusively."

"I…" He didn't really know what to say.

Luckily Ron did. "_Hermione_, you don't need to see someone exclusively to…"

"Finish that sentence and _you'll _be sleeping with Harry!" she interrupted.

He evidently thought better of finishing his thought.

"What time is Al apparating here?" asked Hermione after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Erm—he said 12:27."

"12:27?" Ron snorted.

"He said he likes to change it up once and awhile," Harry replied.

"And which potion are you supposed to be brewing?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"It's a warming draft for tonight's stakeout." Harry and Al (and perhaps Ginny) had been assigned to monitor the actions of people at the Malfoy mansion. Kingsley had a hunch that Narcissa would try to leave and visit the hideout of the wanted Death Eaters. So the Aurors were watching the house twenty-four hours a day. It was a good plan, but the dropping temperature outside was beginning to weigh on their spirits.

"Couldn't you just keep drinking butterbeer?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh _honestly," _Hermione announced abruptly. She glared at Ron over a rainbow colored post. "Didn't you pay attention at _all_ in Potions 6th year?"

"You already know the answer to that question," he retorted, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Harry chuckled at his two friends. Some things would probably never change. Ron and Hermione hadn't stopped arguing since the day they met on the Hogwarts Express.

"Is Al—good at brewing…?" Hermione asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts. She banished the nearest pile of letters to the fireplace where it was all quickly devoured by the hot flames.

"I hope so for both our sakes."

"Harry, this was underneath the 'I'm your biological sibling' pile… I think it's a letter from the Montrose Magpies."

Hermione watched as Harry opened the letter. He scanned it over and handed it to her. "Their Seeker is retiring after this season. It's inviting me to try out next year," he explained.

"I didn't know you wanted to play professionally," Hermione said as she perused the letter.

"Of _course_ he wants to play professionally—Harry's bloody brilliant!" Ron said loyally. This made Harry grin. He looked over the letter again, feeling quite proud that anyone would even think of asking him to play Seeker in the first place.

Oh… here's another one for you." Hermione pulled a manila envelope out from under Ron's left leg. "It looks like a letter from Gringotts," she said as she waved the envelope underneath Harry's nose.

Harry took it and turned it over once in his hand. Sure enough, it had the Gringott's golden seal. Slitting it open with his thumb, he began to read the fine cursive.

_Dear Mr. Harry James Potter_

_The final draft of your parent's, Mr. and Mrs. James Harrington Potter, last will and testament named you as their sole heir. Therefore, upon your twenty-first birthday, you have inherited the remainder of the Potter estate. This entitles you to Godric's Hollow, and all it encompasses. Directions and Apparating coordinates are included in this letter._

_It has also come to our attention that you received a portion of the Black estate upon the death of Sirius A. Black (1960-1996). The will clearly states that if you wish to rearrange any assets, you may do so after you reach the age of twenty-one._

_If you have any questions concerning the information provided in this letter, you may contact Garwin C. Garbledook (Chief Goblin)._

_Thank you for banking with us,_

_Gringotts Wizarding Bank (established 1284)_

As Harry read, Hermione and Ron watched his eyes grow larger and larger. They looked on curiously as he donned a confused look and hurried from the room into the adjoining kitchen.

"REMUS!" Harry shouted before even exiting the drawing room. The kitchen was cluttered with books, files, folders, loose paper, and dozens of quills. Molly and Charlie Weasley were hunched over the table staring intently at case files. Without taking time to explain himself, Harry continued shouting for Remus. Mrs. Weasley barely looked up as she waved a hand toward the sitting room. Hermione and Ron followed close behind, with curious expressions on their faces.

In the hallway, Harry almost ran headfirst into Ginny, who was carrying a stack of books taller then she was. The topmost volume, entitled _A (not so) Brief Encyclopedia of Wizarding Trials throughout the Century_ slid off and hit Harry in the forehead. He bent down quickly and tossed it hurriedly back on her stack.

Ginny scowled and shot him a dirty look as he passed.

"REMUS!" Harry shouted again, not paying attention

A muffled shout was heard somewhere ahead. Harry cursed the Black family for building such a large house. When he finally reached Lupin, he found him sitting amongst a stack of maps and spell books, quill in hand, Tonks alongside him.

"Need something, Harry?" Remus asked, raising his eyebrows at the younger man.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me my Grandparents' house was still standing?" he demanded as he shoved the Gringott's letter under Remus's nose.

Remus looked startled for a moment before comprehension seemed to dawn on his face. "I guess I never really thought about it… even if I had, we wouldn't have been able to find it. The mansion is probably just as well hidden as this place," he said, gesturing vaguely with an arm. He took the letter from Harry and quickly read through it. "Well—they gave you coordinates here…; perhaps we can go see what's left of it, yeah? I haven't been there in _ages_… not since James' mum and dad died."

"I didn't even know it existed!" Harry pressed on. He couldn't decide whether or not he was supposed to feel angry at Remus for never mentioning it to him. "Besides, I thought Godric's Hollow was—well–blown up the night my parents died."

Remus furrowed his brow and reread the letter. "Your parents were staying in a cabin nearby, I believe."

Harry thought this over for a second. He didn't really understand why he had never thought to ask where his grandparents had lived. That side of the family had always been an unsolvable mystery. Excitement flooded through his veins. He was going to see where his dad grew up!

"Godric's Hollow is a village, Harry," Hermione explained helpfully.

"Did you read that in a book?" Ron asked her, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Hermione turned to him with a pointed expression on her face. "Actually yes. It's in _The Rise and Fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. I read it first year."

Remus had apparently been reading the expression on Harry's face. "You should—probably prepare yourself. I'm sure the house elves have all died by now…"

Hermione made a loud sniffing noise.

Ron rolled his eyes.

Remus continued, "It's probably in extreme disarray."

"And what is this rubbish about settling Sirius's estate? I thought we did that _ages_ ago."

"After he died we only divided everything up. You see, Harry, the Black's were an upstanding Wizarding family. They donated large sums of money every year to different organizations…" Remus explained.

"Like the Death Eater Primary School?" Ron asked.

Harry snorted and added, "Teaching your children to betray their friends and murder Muggle borns year after year."

Despite herself, even Hermione laughed along with them.

"Something like that," Remus acknowledged. "Anyway, I'm sure if we went over the numbers we would find our bank accounts still funding a vast array of illegal charities."

"That's reassuring," Harry spat.

"I'll get the paperwork from Gringotts and we can go over it together, if you'd like."

Harry nodded.

"Now then, Hermione, would you mind giving us a hand with this map?" Remus asked.

Tonks, who had been silent up until now, piped up, "It's the area north of Bristol I've been telling you about."

"Isn't that where the last of the Voldemort supporters were supposedly sighted?" Ron asked.

"Yes—we think they're underground somewhere," Tonks answered. "We have a list of charms for you," she said to Hermione, who was gazing at the unfinished map with interest. A small section was covered in tiny roadways and labels but the rest was still unmarked.

"We're having trouble with the magnifying charm," Lupin explained, pointing at a small part of the map with his wand. It immediately enlarged the area but the overall effect was fuzzy and difficult to read.

Hermione furrowed her brow and picked up the nearest volume of _Charming Charms for Hopeless Humans_ and flipped quickly through the pages. Harry decided he would leave her to it and hurried out of the room before someone asked for his help also.

o-o-o-o

Over the next few hours, No. 12 Grimmauld Place was alive with activity. The fireplace was constantly backed up with people flooing in and out and more then once, Harry found himself cleaning ashes off the stacks of files in the drawing room. He gave up after a while and retired to the kitchen to set up his potion ingredients.

Snape, who was currently working in the kitchen with Molly, Charlie, and Ginny Weasley, glowered at Harry from the other end of the table. He looked as though he was using every muscle he possessed to keep himself from making a snide remark (or two or three). Harry, however, found the situation to be profoundly amusing and made a show of writing the ingredients down incorrectly and rearranging them every five seconds. After he had finished crossing out '_brine of salamander' _for the fourth consecutive time, Snape wasn't able to keep quiet any longer.

"_Potter,_" he leered shrewdly, "If you're _attempting_ to brew a Warming Draft, you need to use salamander _brain_, not _brine_."

"How observant of you, _Professor_ Snape," Harry said quickly, offering (what he hoped looked like) a genuine smile.

Snape rolled his eyes and made a loud huffing noise.

Ginny, despite being somewhat exasperated with Harry at the moment, was sitting behind her mother attempting to stifle her sniggers. Snape pushed a strand of greasy black hair out of his eyes and continued flipping through the book he had been looking at, once again trying extremely hard to completely ignore Harry.

o-o-o-o

Hermione flipped through the individual file folders on their missing Death Eaters with extreme distaste. She had spent about two hours with Lupin, Tonks, and an Auror named Gina attempting to recreate a more advanced version of the Marauder's Map. The idea itself was a good one but the area they were trying to map out was so large it would probably take a few months to complete. _Who knows if the group will even stay put in Bristol for that amount of time,_ she thought to herself. She hated to be the pessimist but if they finished and couldn't find the hideout the whole thing would have been a colossal waste of time.

Lupin had said Hermione could take the map to work with her on Monday to begin charming it. Unfortunately, this meant she would have to enlist the help of Gilbert Whimple. He was a very nice man; extremely intelligent and always quick to help. Sadly, though, he had a fairly large pair of horns growing out of his head and Hermione found it increasingly difficult to take him seriously (mostly due to the fact she was constantly being stabbed in the side of the head whenever they would work closely together).

"Is this better?" Tonks asked Hermione. She waved her wand over a small portion of the map in the upper right hand corner. After a few seconds the area Tonks had made a circle around glowed bright blue and enlarged.

Hermione nodded. It was much easier to read the tiny street signs this way.

"When will we be able to add the name bubbles?" Tonks queried.

"After the whole project is finished. It would be rather pointless to have their names with no location," Hermione answered, smiling at the older woman. Hermione had a deep respect for Tonks. She was a brilliant Auror despite being a bit clumsy and she always knew how to make Hermione laugh.

"Well, are the two of you hungry? It's past lunchtime," Remus said, eyeing the clock sitting atop the fireplace. It was 1:30.

"The time went by so fast!" Hermione said. "I should probably find Ron." She gathered up the pictures of the missing Death Eaters to give back to Kingsley and their practice map (a finished outline of Grimmauld Place complete with name bubbles) and stood up. She stretched her arms and yawned; they had been sitting in the same position for quite some time, and her muscles had grown very stiff.

"I'll start making sandwiches!" Tonks exclaimed. Hermione followed her and Remus out of the small sitting room. Three feet later, Tonks tripped over an umbrella stand in the hallway and unsuccessfully tried to steady herself by grabbing hold of the steel coat rack. Remus managed to catch Tonks before she hit the floor, but was unable to stop both objects from making a loud clatter when they hit the tile.

Hermione covered her ears and waited for the portrait of Mrs. Black to begin screaming obscenities. The curtains covering the picture did fly open but the only sound that could be heard from the old woman was high pitched muffled wails. Hermione looked at Remus for an explanation.

"That was Ginny's idea," he explained, "She bought a paint set and drew tape over Mrs. Black's mouth. We still haven't figured out a way to get her off the wall, but at least she won't scream at us every time someone makes noise in the hallway."

Hermione climbed a few stairs to get a closer look at the portrait. Sure enough, painted right over the woman's mouth were thick gray lines resembling Muggle duct tape. "Brilliant," she said, feeling extremely proud of Ginny. "I'd never have thought of that."

"Me neither," Remus stated with a hint of pride in his voice also.

Hermione yanked the curtains closed over Mrs. Black's portrait once more, tucked the photos of the Death Eaters and the map under her arm, and advanced up the stairs to find Ron.

A few minutes later, she found him lying on his back on their queen size bed with the new Chudley Cannons schedule hovering above him. Every few seconds he would sigh loudly and cross something out with a large red quill. Hermione snuck quietly into the room and leapt unconcernedly onto his stomach, snatching the floating paper out of the air with one swift swipe.

Ron let out a loud 'umph' as she landed on top of him but smiled nonetheless.

"Ready for lunch?" she asked.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her down for a long kiss. Hermione melted into him and laced her hands around his neck and into his hair.

"Maybe in a minute," he whispered into her mouth. Ron massaged the back of Hermione's neck and softly pulled her lips closer. She shuddered as he trailed light kisses down her neck. Tugging at the material of her shirt, he pulled it down slightly to reveal a bare shoulder. Hermione felt herself grow very warm as she watched him rub her skin with his thumb. Feeling a new sort of urge, she grabbed a clump of hair at the back of his head and pulled his mouth more firmly against her own.

After a few minutes, Hermione took a deep breath and pulled back. "We should probably stop—there are loads of people downstairs."

"There are _always_ loads of people here," Ron moaned, letting his head fall back against his pillow, obviously feeling slightly disappointed.

"Well, I don't fancy someone waltzing in here catching us in a precarious position when no one save Harry and Ginny even know we're… oh for heaven's sake, Ron! Don't pout," Hermione snapped. Ron was looking up at her with a pair of sad eyes. She hated it when he gave her the puppy dog face… it was so cute.

"I swear I'm planning on telling my family." Ron saw the skeptical expression that Hermione was giving him. "No really! I just… there hasn't been a right time to bring it up."

"There will never _be_ a perfect time to bring it up! Honestly, my parents have known for _ages_!" Hermione argued. There was a hint of resentment in her voice that refused to be masked. It was true though; there would never be a good time to discuss their relationship with the Weasleys. She knew Ron wanted to avoid all the questions and the 'why didn't you tell me sooner?' or 'I would have liked to have known before now!' exclamations from Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm just afraid mum will start crying or screaming or both, really. She'll be a right mess—bring up Bill and how she'll never get any grandchildren from him…" he paused for a second. Then, he quietly added, "We'll tell them soon, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. This was probably all she would get for now; promises that would go unfulfilled for some time. "Well, I should probably get downstairs and make sure Tonks hasn't broken anything yet."

They descended down the stairs to find more than a dozen people crowding the kitchen. Hermione had barely made it to the bottom step when another Tonks-related collision happened. Ginny was carrying a vase of large white flowers toward the extended kitchen table when Tonks tripped over a footstool and knocked into her. The bouquet flew out of the crystal vase and Hermione only had to move forward a few steps to catch it.

"Right good catch, Hermione!" shouted an impressed looking George Weasley.

"When we play drop-in Quidditch over the holidays you're welcome to play keeper!" Fred added, beaming at her as if it were an offer she wouldn't be able to pass up.

Hermione smiled curtly and turned her attention toward the opposite end of the table, where Harry and Al were brewing their potion for the evening's activity. They both looked like they were doing everything in their power to suppress a bout of laughter. Harry was turning an amusing shade of red. She cocked an eyebrow at them but quickly decided not to ask. Mrs. Weasley was setting plates and water glasses down on the table and George and Fred were juggling silverware (after a stern look from their mother, they stopped). Professor Snape was shooting daggers at Harry from the other side of the room. Hermione took a seat near the edge of the table and after a few minutes everyone else followed suit (save Harry and Al who were diligently working on their warming draft).

"Alright..." she heard Harry say in an unnaturally loud voice, "Al, will you hand me the salamander brain?"

Al picked it up with one hand and took a bite of a sandwich with the other. Just as Hermione was about to lecture him about how many microbes were probably in that brain, it slipped out of his fingers (probably due to the immense amount of goo) and landed with a 'SPLAT' on the floor, breaking completely in half.

"Errr..." Al said, making a face and staring at the mess.

Harry snorted and continued stirring. "I said hand it to me _not _drop it on the floor and get cerebral spinal fluid everywhere."

Hermione sighed loudly. Harry had always been abysmal at Potions. As much as he would have liked to attribute this to Professor Snape always being around when he brewed anything, she decided long ago it was his inability to pay attention long enough to read the ingredients thoroughly.

Al picked the two halves off the floor and held one in each hand. "Well... do you want--motor function or creative thinking?"

Harry burst out laughing.

Snape clenched his fists. "Potter, must you insist on reminding everyone how terrible you continue to be at the subject of potions?"

"Oh, Severus–leave them alone, they're just having a bit of fun," Mrs. Weasley said, waving her hand absently through the air.

"Err–actually they really need to get it right," Ginny said, looking over into the cauldron and grimacing at the putrid smell wafting out of the dark green liquid. "Here–let me fix it." She grabbed the ladle out of Harry's hand and added a few more ingredients. "I've been assigned to come with the both of you to the stakeout tonight... I really don't want to freeze my arse off because you fowled this up."

"Oh, yes Miss. Weasley, you're making it _much_ better," Snape jeered.

"Well... it doesn't smell like rotting flesh anymore," Ginny snapped, narrowing her eyes at her old Potion's master. She violently grabbed both sides of the brain from Al and dropped them viciously into the cauldron.

"Geez, Potter–keep your woman under control!"

Silence filled the room, and Al knew he had just made a big mistake.

The sentence just had time to leave Al's lips when Ginny whipped her head in his direction, eyes flashing. "I. Am. Not. His. Woman." As fast as lightning, Ginny elbowed Al in the stomach, grabbed his hands and flipped him over her shoulder.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley cried, covering her mouth with both hands. She was clearly appalled at her youngest's retaliation.

Al laid on the floor with his mouth hanging open.

Ginny stuck her chin in the air, pursed her lips, and stepped over him into the next room.

Harry shot a defeated look into his cauldron and then at Ginny's retreating form. "Well, mate... it's gonna be a cold night."

Next to Hermione, Ron gave a short snigger.

Snape gave one last eye roll and stood suddenly. Walking swiftly to Harry's end of the table, he pulled the bottle of 'mangled pixie limbs' off the small shelf. "Here, Potter, let me fix it... no one wants you to die of hypothermia."

All across the table, mouths dropped open.Hermione wasn't sure what made Snape do it; perhaps he just couldn't stand and watch an easy warming draft befouled. Either way, it was a gesture on Snape's part that was both kind and simple. Hermione felt shocked.

A little while later, Mrs. Weasley was clearing the dishes from the table. She mumbled something about wishing they had a house elf to help with the housework.

Hermione's head shot up. Something had just occurred to her, "Whatever happened to Kreacher?" she asked. It had been years since anyone had spoken of him. She couldn't recall seeing him in the months after Sirius's death.

Remus dropped the teacup he was holding and it shattered on the wooden floor. Looking at the faces around the table she noticed everyone was shifting uncomfortably and glancing around at everyone else.

Mad-Eye Moody cleared his throat. "He–err–was killed in a freak accident shortly after Sirius died."

This sounded extremely wooly to Hermione. She turned to Ron for some sort of explanation but he too was looking anywhere but at her. "What _sort_ of freak accident?" She challenged.

"Well, dear... it's not really a lunch table conversation. Perhaps Ron can tell you later," Mrs. Weasley said, obviously trying to avoid further discussion on the subject.

Hermione was far from satisfied with this answer, but she vowed to get the details later. Rising from the table, she pulled the Grimmauld Place map out of her pile of papers and slid it across the table toward Harry. "Here–I thought we could hang this somewhere in the war room."

Harry picked it up and glanced at it. "This is really, really good, Hermione!"

Al, who was looking over Harry's shoulder, nodded in agreement. After a second his brow creased in confusion and he poked at a place on the map with his wand. "Hey, I think it's wrong, look at this na—"

Harry elbowed him hard in the ribs. Al stopped short and finished his sentence with an 'umph' sound.

"What are you on about? It can't be wrong, it's charmed to..." Hermione started to say. Everyone around the table was looking at them curiously.

"Nevermind, it's–err–nothing," Harry interrupted. He folded the map and stuck it in his pocket. "Thanks, Hermione, it's great." He shot her a significant look and Hermione finally understood. She was suddenly glad she hadn't shown that map to anyone else.

* * *

Harry glanced out his bedroom window at the setting sun. The sky was the color of strawberry pudding and it would only be a matter of time before darkness set in. He crossed the room to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of black trousers. This was going to be his first stakeout since the night he killed Voldemort. His skin was itching in anticipation. He couldn't deny that the thought of crouching in the bushes in the middle of the night had its drawbacks; but he and Al had always found ways to entertain themselves regardless.

On the top of his dresser sat the map Hermione had given him. Glancing at it, he saw Al was already waiting in the kitchen, accompanied by three members of the Weasley family.

Harry pulled his long-sleeve t-shirt over his head and reached for his thigh-length camouflage cloak. He buckled his belt over it and clipped his wand holster on. He rarely used a holster–they were a bit annoying and made sitting difficult. But occasionally it was handy to have his wand right at his hip. Taking one last look around, he couldn't find anything else he needed. Closing his door behind him, he moved happily through the hallway and took the stairs two at a time.

In the downstairs hallway, Mrs. Weasley and Remus were in the middle of a hushed conversation. When he appeared around the corner, they stopped talking and smiled at him guiltily. He had the distinct impression that they had been talking about him but decided not to pursue the issue. A few years ago this situation would have upset him tremendously; it had taken him quite some time to realize that his friends and family only had his best interests at heart. He smiled at them and said goodnight before continuing into the kitchen.

Ron was hunched over the table surrounded by notebooks and Quidditch lineups. He was furiously scribbling things out with a red quill and scratching his head. Al and Ginny were filling their thermoses with hot tea and mixing the warming draft in. They were both dressed quite similarly to Harry. Ginny was wearing a feminine pair of knee-length black boots and tight black pants. Her cloak was draped half-hazardously over a nearby chair. Either Ginny had apologized for slapping Al earlier or he hadn't been offended because they seemed to be getting along fine. Hermione was sorting through the pile of Death Eater files and pulling the pictures out.

"Hey, you ready?" Al asked, seeing Harry standing in the doorframe.

Harry nodded. He sat down next to Ron and turned to face his partner.

Al pulled out his wand and touched the tip to Harry's faded lightning-bolt shaped scar. "Crypto," he said. A soft red beam issued from the end and he traced the faint imprint all the way up the center of his forehead.

Ron and Hermione looked on curiously.

"Corylus," he continued, tapping Harry's forehead.

Harry closed his eyes for a second before picking up a teaspoon that was lying on the table and glancing into it. His scar had completely disappeared and his green eyes were now a distinct hazel color. "Thanks," he said, grinning. Al had taken over the task of transfiguring Harry's distinguishing features a while back after Harry had accidently made his entire forehead disappear.

"You know, that doesn't exactly make you unrecognizable," Hermione said critically.

"I know, but it makes me less noticeable. I don't fancy being the target of every jinx and curse thrown at us just because I'm–well–_me_," he explained. He was sure he would look rather like Moody if he didn't bother hiding a few of his more 'famous' features. He was partial to his nose and _both_ eyes.

Hermione nodded and stacked all the photos she had gathered together. "Here," she said, thrusting the stack toward Al. "These are the people you're looking for. I wrote their names on the back of each picture."

Al took the stack and started rifling through them.

Harry stood up and started helping Ginny pack the thermoses and the extra potion containers in the large overnight bag.

Remus entered the kitchen with his nose in _Trials and Tribulations_ by Igor the Ignorant. He grabbed his briefcase which was leaning against a wall and looked up briefly, "Night," he mumbled. He turned about 180 degrees toward the kitchen door before doing a double take and gaping at Harry. "Merlin–what did you..." he trailed off.

Harry raised an eyebrow and scratched his head before realizing that Remus was referring to Al's spells.

"You look _exactly_ like James," Remus breathed.

Harry grinned and shot a hand through his hair like he had seen his father do in Snape's memory.

Remus chuckled. "It's uncanny," he said.

"HEY!" Al shouted abruptly, shaking Harry out of the memory of seeing his 15-year-old father in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Al was waving a picture in the air frantically and pointing at it.

Ginny reached out and grabbed it from him before shrugging. "It's just a picture of one of the Death Eaters we're after," she said, handing it to Remus. He frowned and stared intently at it. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw a black-haired woman gazing up at him. Her gray eyes bore into him with a knowing smile.

"No, that's the woman from Malfoy's mansion!" Al continued, pointing at the photo Remus was holding.

"What do you–," Ron started to say. He stood up to see the picture they were referring to. "From the day you Poly-juiced as Lucius and Draco?"

Al nodded. "She must be related to them somehow!"

Remus deepened his frown. "There's something oddly familiar about her..." he muttered.

Harry and Ron shared a look.

"Who is she?" Ginny asked.

"No one," Harry said shortly.

"I just asked," she said coldly.

"Just–forget it... she's nobody," Harry replied. Truthfully, he hadn't meant for his answer to sound rude. He just wasn't keen on reliving his time spent with the woman in question. Those three months of his life were better off forgotten.

"She's obviously _somebody_ if we're spending valuable time looking for her," Ginny sneered, obviously not about to give up. "I think I deserve to know a bit about her if I'm going to risk my life trying to find her!"

"Ginny, just drop it," Ron said softly. "She was one of the people who held us hostage for three months."

"That was easy now, wasn't it?" she said haughtily, tossing a look at Harry.

Harry's temper was quickly rising to the surface. "You _weren't_ there, you don't understand!"

Ginny froze. She squeezed her eyes shut and spun slowly to face him. Her fists were balled at her sides.

Harry knew the warning signs; he had struck a nerve. He gulped.

"I don't _understand_?" Ginny's brown eyes flashed ominously. "Maybe I WASN'T being held prisoner with the rest of you. But that DOESN'T mean I didn't suffer JUST AS MUCH!"

"Ginny..." Ron tried.

"Three of my brothers and nearly all of my FRIENDS were missing. I thought you were all dead. Mum and dad forced me to go into hiding HERE where I had to sit and do _nothing_ to help find you. DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I DIDN'T SUFFER?! She spat venomously.

Harry had a sudden bout of realization. If it had been him that was the only person left behind he would have been beside himself with grief. Losing Ron and Hermione would have ripped his heart out. The aforementioned pair were looking on in horror, probably thinking they were about to witness a major row. Harry's expression softened as he regarded Ginny. "I'm sorry, I didn't think..."

"No, you didn't," she said shortly. After a second, she heaved a deep sigh. There were teardrops along the brims of her eyes. "It was just really difficult."

Harry forgot everyone else in the room for a minute and stepped forward to wrap his arms securely around Ginny's small frame. With one hand, he pushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "We'll talk about it later, yeah?"

She nodded solemnly and stepped back.

Al was the first to break the silence. "Let's head out. We have to relieve Atlas and Langland."

They gathered their things. Ginny threw on her cloak.

"Harry..." Hermione started to say. She had a fearful expression on her face like she thought he would lose his temper again. When he looked over at her, she continued. "Do you—do you think Malfoy would know where these people were hiding out? I mean–he's probably related to this Danika person, right?"

Harry furrowed his brow. Hermione had a point; Draco Malfoy most likely _did_ know exactly where they were. "Dunno–but do you really think he would tell us if he did?"

"No... but there _are_ ways to make him tell," she said, offering a small smile.

"Hermione, I don't want you anywhere _near_ Malfoy!" Ron said quickly.

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Oh please!" she cried indignantly. "The little ferret is incarcerated in Azkaban! What could he possibly do to me?"

"Who _knows!_?" Ron said. He seemed to be thinking something over. "I'll go. If he knows anything—I'll find out."

"Alright," Harry replied, "But you'd better have a plan before you go in there. I doubt he'll be cooperative." He turned toward the door, ready to leave and saw that Remus was still standing there, gazing at the picture of Danika. "What is it?" he asked him.

The older man looked up. "I don't know–it's odd, don't you think? She's related to the Malfoys, but we've never heard of her. Wouldn't she have been on the Black family tree?"

Harry thought about this. It was true; he hadn't seen her name anywhere on the hanging tree when they had (finally) managed to pry it off the wall. "Maybe she was born after it was made?"

Remus shook his head, "Mrs. Black updated it continually... and Draco's on it. This woman looks older than him... maybe 23 or 24?" He turned the photo over in his hands. On the back, in Hermione's handwriting was written _Danika Carden: Date of birth, unknown_. "Carden..." Remus mumbled to himself. "It sounds _really_ familiar... I think I went to school with someone who had that last name."

"It would probably be in the archives in the Hogwart's library," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Maybe we could go there and check... although, if she's around twenty-three, wouldn't she have gone there with us? I don't remember her."

"She would have been close to my year and I don't remember her either," Al agreed.

"Just how I want to spend my spare time," Ron snorted, "Returning to the library."

Remus seemed to consider it. He turned to Harry after a minute, "Maybe you could go with her. Didn't you inherit Dumbledore's pensieve after he died?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's in McGonagall's office."

Remus expression lightened. "Can you borrow it from her? I think–," he paused, "I think I remember something... I haven't thought about it in years. I don't even know if revisiting it will be of any use. But... it'd be impossible... wouldn't it? We would have known..." he said the latter to himself as he opened the back door and retreated into the steadily growing darkness.

The remaining people in the kitchen watched him go curiously.

"Well _that _was irritating... not like we have _any_ idea what he's on about," Ron piped up.

* * *

"Is that the Muggle newspaper?" Ginny asked Al quietly.

He shook his head and made some sort of incoherent grumbling noise. He, Ginny, and Harry were lying belly down on a few layers of blankets hidden behind a wall of thorny bushes.

Harry, who had been peering through his omnioculars, glanced over. "A strange man found wandering around Surrey is beginning to recover from long-suffering amnesia," he read over Al's shoulder. It was really difficult to read in the dark and they didn't want to attract attention by lighting their wands, but Harry was able to make out the gist of the article.

"I think this guy's a wizard," Al explained casually.

"Why do you think that?" Ginny asked, craning her neck to see the paper over Harry's form. Goose bumps rose on the back of his neck as her chin grazed his skin.

"Dunno, they mentioned something last week about how the only thing they found on him when he arrived at the hospital was a nicely carved wooden stick and a few funny tasting jellybeans. Sounds like a wand and Bertie-Botts Every Flavor Beans to me."

Harry frowned. It did sound strange. "Does it say anything else?" he asked.

Al scanned the page for a minute before answering. "He's beginning to remember names. Keeps repeating a few of them. I guess they're going to try contacting people to find out who he is."

"I wonder how long he's been wandering around for." Ginny murmured.

"It doesn't say... just that he's been in the Muggle hospital for quite some time," Al answered.

Harry turned his attention back to the dark, looming form of the Malfoy mansion. He had no doubt they would be hearing more of these stories over the next few years. Countless people had been hit with befuddlement spells and Memory charms or tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Harry shuddered. That was one spell he hoped to never feel again.

What the Muggles deemed amnesia usually wasn't. Normally it was a person who had been hit with some sort of neural spell and couldn't remember anything. Over time, they would 'recover' when it began to wear off. Perhaps it was such with this man lying in the Surrey hospital. He had an inkling that this wizard had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd or discovered something he hadn't meant to. Harry doubted this was the last time they would hear of him.

* * *


	5. Vastus Augustus Memorial Hospital

**Title: **The Vastus Augustus Memorial Hospital

**Disclaimer: **JK Rowling owns Harry Potter; I do not.

**Notes: **Big 'ole thanks to my beta, le Manchot du Destin for her spectacular skills. Another big thanks to the following people: _lindsay, The Zazu, PinkytheSnowman, lizzie5555555, Synthiacat, Jessiquie, Manchot _(you read it a whole bunch of times each chapter!), _Greek Falcon, Voltor, A Cute But Psycho Bunny, and Taryn_ for reading along.

Also, thanks to _Koonelli_ for her great comments on _Missing Moments._ She writes terrific one-shots... read them if you are searching for something good.

aaannndd _Allycat76 _for finding _Love and Loathing at Hogwarts_ fun AND for reviewing even though it's finished. Not too many people will do that and I just want you to know that I appreciate it!

anyhow... here we go.

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"Did you hear that Oliver Wood joined the Montrose Magpies?" Ron asked Harry.

They were sitting in the drawing room pretending to help Hermione research charms for the map she was working on. Neither Ron nor Harry was any good at performing charms _or_ researching them, so whenever she would leave the room they would pull out the Exploding Snap cards and play a quick game. Ron's eyebrows had just been singed for the umpteenth time in ten minutes. Harry's, however, were still completely intact.

"Good look for you, mate," Harry said, smiling. "And no, I thought he was up for captain of Puddlemore United this year?"

"I guess he decided he'd rather captain the Magpies. D'you think it has anything to do with Katie Bell playing for them?" Ron asked as he tossed another card down atop the pile.

"Dunno, they broke up a while ago. You know… if they get Alicia Spinnet to play they'll have more than half the old Gryffindor Quidditch team back." Harry replied. He stopped for a second, "Damn, I think I hear Hermione–quick, shove these under the coffee table."

The two men pushed every last blackened card underneath the table and frantically grabbed for the closest books. Hermione entered, looking a bit pink in the cheeks, and eying her friends suspiciously.

"I'm not sure I even _want_ to know what you were doing," she said decidedly.

They both tried to muster innocent expressions. "Are you trying to insinuate something, love?" Ron said sweetly.

"You've got a bit of ash on your chin and Harry's reading his book upside-down... next time you try to sneak a game of Exploding Snap in under my nose you'd best pay attention to details," she smirked.

Ron had just opened his mouth to retort when the fireplace behind them sparked to life with green flames. After a second, Minerva McGonagall's head appeared in the flames. When she saw the three people sitting in the drawing room her tight features formed a warm smile.

"Hello Weasley, Hermione... Potter, you needed to talk to me?"

"Hi Professor McGonagall, yeah I...." Harry started to say.

"Oh phooey with that Professor title; I haven't been your Professor in quite some time, now have I? Minerva will be fine, Potter."

"Err–okay, Minerva." It felt a bit odd to be on a first name basis with such a highly esteemed and respected witch. Harry definitely didn't consider himself to be Minerva McGonagall's equal but if she would rather him call her by her first name, then he wasn't about to argue. "I was wondering if I could borrow Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve for a bit–Remus asked about it a few days ago."

"It _is_ yours, Potter. I'm surprised you haven't asked for it before now. I could just OWL it to you."

"Err–actually," he shot a look at Hermione, "Hermione needs to–erm–use the library at Hogwarts... if that's alright with you. I thought I'd just come with her and pick it up myself."

"Wonderful!" Minerva's expression livened up, "I'll make a deal with you; I'll let you two use the library if the both of you will come and speak to the first year Defense Against the Dark Arts classes."

Harry thought this over for a second. He really wasn't a great public speaker. He tried to recall the number of times he spoke in front of the D.A. back at Hogwarts. Shooting a look at Hermione he saw that the prospect of getting to share her wealth of knowledge was making her almost quiver with excitement. She nodded vigorously at him and he turned back to Prof–Minerva. "Alright… that sounds like a fair trade. Although I'm sure Professor Parry could tell them loads more then I ever could."

"You underestimate yourself, Mr. Potter." A thoughtful expression was imprinted upon her face. "Well, then what about this Thursday? I trust you need the Pensieve soon?"

Harry nodded, "It would help."

"And how will you be arriving?"

Ron snorted and shot Harry a devilish look, "You could... apparate onto the grounds."

_Oh no._

Hermione omitted a low snarling noise in the back of her throat. "You. Can't. Apparate. Near. Hogwarts." Then, she crossed the room, violently pulled a book off the shelf, stomped back over to Ron and thrust it into his hands.

_Hogwarts, a History (revised and rewritten)_

Minerva wore an expression of amusement on her face.

Harry cleared his throat. "Well, we'll either ride the Knight Bus" (Hermione sniffed), "or err–I guess we could apparate into Hogsmeade and walk to the castle from there. It's not too cold out yet."

"Yes, well... either way is fine. I believe the first class begins at eleven with the Gryffindors. They'll be so excited to have you!"

"Thank you, Professo–errr–Minerva!" Hermione said excitedly, "We'll start planning our lesson straight away!"

Harry shot her a disbelieving look.

Minerva's head bobbed up and down in the fireplace. "Oh, and Potter–your Aunt and Uncle have been trying to get a hold of you. They sent me an owl yesterday evening saying they needed to speak with you and weren't sure where you were staying."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had _OWLed_ Hogwarts? He wasn't aware they knew _how_ to use an owl. What could they _possibly_ have to say to him after three years of silence? "Erm–did the letter say anything else?"

"Only that someone had been trying to get in touch with you and could I pass the message along to you." She stopped for a second and then added, "Oh, and they said if you were planning on stopping at Privet Drive to dress normally–although I believe they used a rather vile word. Charming Muggles, aren't they?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all laughed.

"Well then, I'll see the two of you later on this week!"

With another flash of green light, the head of their old Transfiguration teacher disappeared.

"What d'you reckon your Aunt and Uncle want?" Ron asked.

"Dunno–can't be good though. I haven't had a letter from them in ages; not since I left Hogwarts and they told me never to come back. Think I should go see them?" he asked Ron and Hermione.

"I wouldn't," Ron said, pushing Hermione's book out of his lap and pulling out the Exploding Snap cards again.

"Well, you should at least see what they want," Hermione argued. "Maybe they want to apologize for being so awful to you."

"Yeah and maybe Dudley's lost two-hundred-seventy-five pounds, married Keira Knightly, and had nine beautiful children," Harry said sarcastically, taking the cards Ron was thrusting toward him.

Ron shook with laughter.

Hermione pursed her lips together and eyed them both, "Well, it won't kill you to visit."

Harry eyed her incredulously, "No, but it might just kill them." Then, seeing Hermione's serious expression he sighed in defeat, "Fine, I'll go–but can I at least send them ten owls beforehand and wear bright, twinkling star covered robes and a tall pointed hat?"

Hermione ignored the latter comment. "Are you going in to work today?"

Harry nodded, "I have dueling drills with Al this afternoon. After that I thought I'd start planning the next D.A. meeting."

"When are we going to see what's left of your grandparent's house?" Ron asked, throwing a card down onto the pile. Three seconds later the entire stack blew up. This time he had the good sense to cover his eyebrows.

"Remus said sometime next week. Are either of you going in to work?"

Hermione shook her head, "I can get just as much done here as in the office; and I don't have to worry about Gilbert's horns poking me in the eye."

"He still hasn't gotten them removed?" Ron asked.

She gave a hearty sigh, "No, he told me a week ago that the Healers at St. Mungo's still can't find a counterjinx. Between the three of us though, I think he rather likes them. It's been seven years for goodness sake!"

"I'm heading up to Azkaban to talk to Malfoy today." Ron visibly shuddered.

Harry had a hunch that Malfoy wasn't going to be cooperative. Unless they offered him some kind of deal, he probably wouldn't tell them anything. He gave Ron credit for trying though. After wishing Ron good luck and saying goodbye to Hermione, Harry decided he should probably start getting ready to go into the Ministry.

* * *

Hermione walked softly up the stairs, turned the corner to open the water closet door and ran headlong into Ginny. She was holding her wand in between her teeth and tying her hair up in a short ponytail. 

"Hey, I thought you'd left already," Hermione remarked as she watched Ginny tuck her t-shirt into her jeans.

Ginny pulled her wand out of her mouth and stuck it into the belt loop of her pants. "I don't have to be in until one." She crossed the hallway and pushed her bedroom door open, Hermione at her heels.

"I didn't get a chance to ask how your stakeout went the other day," Hermione said as she flopped down on the bed opposite Ginny's. "You don't mind me being in here, do you?"

Ginny shook her head and grinned, "It's your room too, yeah?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your poor mum and dad… if only they knew."

Ginny started digging through the mess of clothes strewn about her closet, "Ron had better tell them soon or it'll just get worse." She disappeared under a large green object and reemerged with two different colored shoes. "That won't do," she groaned.

"How can you stand the mess?" Hermione asked, eyeing the floor warily.

Ginny shrugged and started tugging at a matching blue trainer stuck under an upturned chair. "The stakeout went alright—kind of boring though. Narcissa hasn't gone anywhere for months."

"And Harry still has all his body parts—the ones visible to the common person, anyway, so I'm assuming the two of you got along fine?" Hermione had been meaning to talk to Ginny about Harry since the Ministry party but hadn't had a chance until now.

"I really don't understand him sometimes. One minute he's holding my hand and batting his eyelashes—okay, not so much the eyelashes—but anyway, and the next he clams up and won't even make eye contact with me. It's like sometimes he forgets he doesn't like me."

"I'm positive he still likes you. But you're right, he's usually not so indecisive," Hermione added thoughtfully.

"Do you get the feeling he and Ron aren't telling us something?" Ginny asked when she had finished tying the shoelaces of her trainers.

"I know they aren't," Hermione said, frowning.

"What do you think it is?" Ginny said as she crossed over to where Hermione was and sat next to her on the bed.

"Well—I heard them talking a few days after Harry—woke up. Ron mentioned some embarrassing moment and then Harry said something like, 'No, I can't tell her, she wouldn't understand.' So... I don't know, I can't think of a thing."

"Do you think we'll find out eventually?" Ginny asked.

"There isn't a doubt in my mind."

* * *

Harry was lying flat on his back, panting, wand having been wrenched from his fingertips by Al (who was now giving himself a thorough pat on the back). Harry groaned and, pushing his arms over his head, flipped his body back into a standing position. He had only let his guard down for a second, turning around when Al said loudly, 'hey, isn't that Ginny?' Harry had forgotten himself for a minute and turned toward the training room door, expecting to see the lovely red-head entering into the Auror's gym. Instead he had received a blast to the chest, knocking him from his feet. 

Harry was about to reclaim his wand when Al, apparently not ready for another go, doubled over and nailed Harry with his shoulders in the stomach. Harry let out a loud 'umph' as he was pushed a few steps back.

"You wanna play dirty, eh?" he said, smiling at his partner. Harry took his left leg and wrapped it securely around Al's right knee, yanking backwards. He managed to knock Al off his feet but unfortunately Harry was still entwined in Al's arms and fell with him; only at the last second did he fold into a roll to wiggle out of Al's grasp. Panting, Harry grabbed both his partner's arms and forced them over his head. Harry was now crouched on top of his chest with Al's arms pinned, smiling broadly.

That changed in about two seconds. Harry was definitely quicker than Al, but Al had a muscular advantage. He swung his legs up, squeezing Harry's head between his knees. In one, forceful movement, their positions were completely reversed.

"Saaayyy Uncle!"

"No."

"C'mon, say it just this once!"

"No way!" Harry said, wriggling around on the floor like a maniac. He twisted his wrist and managed to pull one arm free.

"You know you can't win."

Harry did the only thing he could think of; with his free hand he grabbed Al's arm and pinched the nerve near his elbow as hard as he could.

Al's face twisted as he yelped in pain. He let go of Harry's other arm in order to devote all efforts to tearing Harry away from his elbow.

Around the mats set out specifically for dueling practice, there had developed quite a large crowd. Among them were Kingsley and a group of new trainees. Harry heard him remark that Harry and Al were always entertaining to watch and had received excellent marks in Hand-to-Hand combat back in their training days.

Now, both wandless and sweaty, the two dueling Aurors stood facing one another, fists raised, waiting for the other to strike.

Al made the first move, turning ninety degrees and kicking Harry squarely in the chest. A few people in the crowd gasped as Harry tumbled backward. Al kept advancing and Harry jumped back to his feet and was just able to duck as Al swung a fist at him. Harry ducked left and then swung his foot out in a perfect arc, knocking Al off his feet. Seizing the opportunity, Harry flung himself at his abandoned wand. On the other side of the mat, Al recovered and reached for his also.

"Impedimenta!"

"Protego!" Al panted. His shield only partially did the trick. Harry's bolt of red light managed to break through the invisible barrier and knock him a few steps back.

"Impedius!" Long ropes shot out of Harry's wand and wrapped around the length of Al's body. Al managed to free his wand hand after a few seconds and muttered the countercurse. Harry, thinking fast, yelled, "Serpantimmuto" The ropes turned into long snakes which hissed and coiled around Al's legs.

Fear flickered in Al's eyes. He backed slowly away while still holding his wand out in front of him. "Evanesco." But the snakes just gave him sinister looks and kept slithering closer.

Harry was suddenly reminded of the last time he had seen this spell performed; back at the Department of Mysteries during his fifth year. To his horror, he realized that Voldemort had been the one that cast it, trying to kill Dumbledore. "Come back!" he shouted at the two snakes. They turned to one another as if deciding whether or not to listen to Harry and then, quite stubbornly turned around. Harry flicked his wand and they disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"No fair! You can't use Parseltongue against me! I could've gotten rid of them," Al spat.

Harry didn't waste any time listening to his rants, "Expelliarmus!" Al's wand flew directly into Harry's outstretched hand. He forced a smile and pushed the thoughts of Voldemort away. It was times like these Harry couldn't help but remember the similarities between himself and the Dark Lord. Couldn't he have just used a simple hex to thwart Al? Did he have to resort to using something that could easily be confused with a Dark Arts spell? Harry sighed as Al smiled back nonchalantly, obviously failing to notice Harry's inner turmoil.

Breathing heavily, Harry excused himself and marched the length of the room to enter the Auror's dressing chambers. Shedding his workout clothes as he went, he reached the showers and switched on the hot water.

Harry leaned against his arms under the fountain of water for what felt like a half an hour. Not even the soothing steam could wash away the thoughts that were flickering through his mind. Hadn't Dumbledore once told him that he, Harry, possessed many of the qualities Voldemort prided himself in having? Didn't the sorting hat consider sticking him in Slytherin because pieces of Voldemort were transferred into him that fateful October night? Harry had vanquished Voldemort with love; something Voldemort wasn't able to understand. Did the spell he used somehow backfire, leaving Voldemort free to inhabit Harry's thoughts?

Harry slammed his fist onto the water knob and threw a towel around his waist. Dense steam blanketed the locker room as Harry plopped down on a nearby bench and put his head in his hands.

"Trying to recreate the London fog?" asked Ginny from behind him.

Harry jumped. He hadn't realized anyone else was in the locker room. He ran a hand through his sopping wet hair and pulled his glasses on. "Hey–no.... I was just taking a long shower." Looking down quickly he realized he was only wearing a towel. "What're you doing in the men's locker room anyway?"

"I saw you run out of the gym a half an hour ago. You alright?" She looked genuinely concerned.

Harry grabbed a pair of boxers out of his locker and pulled them on underneath his towel. "Err–yeah," he lied.

"Liar."

He stood up from the bench and turned so his back was to her. Harry managed to gracefully pull on a pair of jeans before ripping the towel off and tossing it into the laundry chute. "No–well, I dunno... did you see our duel?" When he turned back around he felt sure that Ginny had been staring at his backside. Recovering quickly, she gave him a slight smile.

"Yeah, I did."

"I guess I'm just worried that if I don't watch it, I could become the next Voldemort... or something like him," Harry said as he sat down next to Ginny on the bench. For the first time he realized that she was only wearing a sports bra and her workout pants. His skin suddenly felt hot and he doubted it was from the shower.

Ginny seemed to be thinking over his last statement. After a minute, she replied, "Anyone could become the next dark lord, Harry."

He sighed and pulled a clean t-shirt over his head. "Yeah, but what if that spell I performed to vanquish him somehow left some kind of evil dark lord residue in me?" Harry couldn't believe he was actually voicing his feelings out loud. Perhaps it was his desperate desire to become closer to Ginny; perhaps he needed reassurance that he wasn't evil. Either way it was time to come clean with the worries that had been plaguing him for some time.

"Even if there was some sort of side effect... you can't just turn into an evil killing machine with no say. You're powerful, Harry, nobody denies that. But it's an entirely different kind of power than Voldemort possessed. He survived on hate and mistrust. When you filled him with love he couldn't stand to reside in his own body." Ginny reached out a hand and ran her fingers up and down the length of Harry's arm.

Harry felt as though electricity was shooting from her fingertips and igniting his skin. He was so rarely touched like this; Ginny's hands were smooth and soft. He desperately wanted her to move closer....

"And that snake spell–it's not like you cast an Unforgivable."

This comment sent a bolt of lightning down to the pit of his stomach. His face blanched and he felt himself about to admit something to her that he had never told anyone. "But I have before," Harry said slowly.

"You have?" Ginny asked. "When?"

Harry wasn't sure about her immediate reaction. Ginny was doing a wonderful job of keeping her face neutral while he continued. "The first time I tried was when I was fifteen–in the Department of Mysteries. I–I tried hitting Bellatrix with Crucio. The last time was when we stormed the underground caverns back in May... Lucius Malfoy. I wanted to kill him after what he did to your dad and Percy... and Bill." Would she hate him now? He had just confessed one of his deepest secrets. Harry had never even told Ron and Hermione any of this.

"But you didn't kill him... he's in Azkaban," she said quietly. She was looking straight at him, unflinching.

Harry nodded.

"Unforgivables only work if the caster truly enjoys causing pain. You simply wanted revenge on the behalf of someone you loved." Ginny slid off the bench and crouched at Harry's feet to look him straight in the eyes. "Harry, you're the complete polar opposite of Voldemort. Yes, you're a very powerful wizard like he was... but it's a different _kind_ of power."

He blinked and looked away from her penetrating stare.

"What I'm trying to say is that _anyone_ can be corrupted by power. But in the end _you _have to decide what kind of person you want to be; whether you turn your pain into compassion or malice is completely up to you."

Harry realized that she was right; just because the similarities between himself and Lord Voldemort could still be seen didn't mean he was doomed to become the next evil wizard. Sulking in the middle of an empty locker room seemed like a teenage thing to do. He looked up into her caring brown eyes and smiled. "Thanks."

Ginny squeezed his arm one more time and grinned back. "Besides," she said as she tossed her hair behind her shoulders, "I was planning on becoming the next power-hungry, pureblood-loving dark lord of the wizarding world... can't have you stealing my thunder."

Harry snorted.

"You heading back home?"

He shook his head. "Professor McGonagall flooed earlier this morning and said my Aunt and Uncle were trying to get a hold of me. I thought I'd better see what they wanted."

Ginny wore a thoughtful expression. "That's odd, isn't it?"

"Can't be good. Last time I saw them they threw a box filled with Dudley's old underpants at me and said never to visit."

"Well, I can take a quick shower and come with you." Harry was about to protest when Ginny shot him a sharp look. "I don't want you losing your temper and blowing one of them up. This time I'm sure they'd throw you in Azkaban."

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. It would be nice to have company... especially Ginny's. "Alright, I'll wait for you downstairs. I thought I'd apparate into Little Whinging... maybe walk through town first."

"We should say hello to Arabella Figg," Ginny said surely. She rose from her seated position and rustled Harry's wet hair. For a second, she seemed to contemplate something. Then, leaning down (Harry gazed intently at her face, willing himself _not_ to look at her cleavage) she grazed his warm cheek with her lips and whispered, "Hang in there, yeah?" And in one flowing movement, she was around the corner and out of the locker room.

* * *

Ron sat on the hard wooden chair in the middle of an interviewing room in Azkaban. The room itself was dark; lit only by a few torches scattered amongst the cold gray walls. There was a window in the far corner, but the thick bars didn't allow much light through. 

Ron sighed and tapped his fingers against the table impatiently. He had only been waiting for about ten minutes but wasn't looking forward to this meeting at all; it seemed like he'd been there for hours. Draco Malfoy was the last person on the face of the planet that he wanted to see. Ron had spent the last few days convincing himself that if he could get _anything_ useful out of the disgusting excuse for a wizard, then it would be worth the hours he'd spent agonizing over what to say.

Finally, after another five minutes, the door swung open to reveal two cloaked guards leading in a chained, malnourished, pale Malfoy. Even as they pushed him into the seat, Ron noticed that despite his situation, he was still carrying himself like the aristocrat he thought himself to be.

"Make it quick, Weasel," Malfoy said, pasting an ugly sneer across his thin face.

Ron sighed and smacked Danika Carden's folder down onto the table. His wand had been taken away at the entrance so he was forced to slide it across toward Malfoy. It came to a halt right in front of him.

"What _is_ this?"

"I'd suggest you open it to find out."

Malfoy's sneer intensified as he ripped open the front page to find Danika's face leering up at him from her snapshot. A haughty expression replaced the curled lip as he looked back at Ron. "And what, pray tell, do you want from me?"

"We have reason to believe this woman is related to you," Ron said, doing his best to ignore the lewd smile of his enemy. A voice similar to Hermione's was repeating '_ignore him, ignore him_,' in the back of his head.

"And if she is?" Draco leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. He was doing his best to look as though the interview was boring him.

"If she is, we'll know where to start looking. We'll search your mansion, question your mother... actually, we may do that either way."

Malfoy's eyes flashed at this statement. "I'm not telling you _anything_, Weasel."

"We'll find her regardless. Do you honestly care what happens to the lot of them?"

Malfoy pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, "If I were you... well if I were _you_ I'd Avada Kedavra myself... aside from that you shouldn't be so sure you'll track them down."

Ron crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Look, we know _nothing_ about this woman... even whether Danika is her real name. If you could tell me _anything_... it would be helpful." There, he had laid it on the table. Now the decision was up to Malfoy.

Draco yawned and tried to look even more bored.

"Fine." Ron wasn't about to play mind games with the convicted Death Eater. He didn't need to reinforce the fact that _Ron_ was the one who could freely leave Azkaban. He stood up and moved toward the door.

"Unless..."

Ron looked back.

"What's in it for me?"

"Do you honestly believe I would strike any sort of deal with you?" Ron said, nonplussed. There was no way he would be trading anything for information. Not only was he _not_ in a position to do so... it would go completely against his ethics. "The only thing I can say is that disclosing information to me would look great on record when they go to sentence you."

This last statement didn't seem to entice him at all. He continued with his rant. "I'm sure _Potter_ would be interested in finding her... wouldn't he?"

Ron narrowed his eyes and continued toward the guarded entryway. "Why do you say that?"

Malfoy regained his snotty expression and wrinkled his nose. "Nearly everyone that held the lot of you captive is in Azkaban... except her and a few others. Potter _would_ find some way to play the hero and bring the rest in, wouldn't he?"

Ron turned toward the giant metal door and banged twice. A guard opened it up and stepped out of the way to let him through.

"Left her in a right state, didn't he, Weasley?" Malfoy yelled from the other side of the small chamber. He now seemed desperate to keep Ron there.

"What're you on about, Malfoy?" Ron growled, coming to a halt in the doorframe. He didn't want to spend anymore time tossing insults back and forth with a scumbag like Draco.

"Nothing... good luck hunting," Malfoy replied in an uninterested voice. He stuck out a grimy hand in front of him and pretended to be terribly interested in his fingernails.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're a slimeball, Malfoy. Enjoy your life in prison." He turned on his heel and left the cold, damp interview room, quickly deciding he wasn't going to rise to the bait. In time, they would figure out the mystery of Danika Carden; with or without the help of imprisoned Death Eaters.

* * *

Harry and Ginny apparated into Little Whinging around 2:00p.m. Harry picked a spot where they would have to do a bit of walking to reach Privet Drive giving him a chance to ready himself for his estranged relatives. 

"Maybe they want to personally congratulate you on defeating Voldemort," Ginny said with a note of amusement in her voice.

"Are you joking? He could have broken into their house shouting, 'Die Mudbloods,' and murdered Dudley and they _still_ would've denied he existed," Harry replied. "Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll just open the door and throw something at me so we won't even need to have a conversation."

A group of laughing little girls passed the two in the street, swinging their ice skates over their shoulders and giggling at Harry and Ginny's long cloaks.

Ginny stopped walking and looked back at the group as they skipped past. "Harry... what are those weird shoes they have?" she asked, looking perplexed.

Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her behind a nearby bush. He began transfiguring his winter cloak into a Muggle jacket. "Ice skates," he answered while touching his wand to a sleeve, "I think there's an indoor rink on the next street."

Ginny's eyes widened, "You mean to tell me that Muggle children strap those to their feet and _walk_ on _ice_?" She rolled her eyes as Harry accidentally turned his right sleeve into pink feathers. She pulled out her own wand and fixed it for him, making it short and black like the rest of his new coat.

"Thanks–err... yeah, they more glide than walk. Aunt Petunia gave me an old pair of Dudley's after he broke through the ice at Schaffer Pond when we were 7. I think she was secretly hoping I'd fall through too and she'd never see me again," then, he added thoughtfully, "I wasn't even _close_ to his size though." He pointed his wand at Ginny's cloak and it shrunk into a thick ski jacket and turned a funny color of mauve. She eyed him curiously and he grinned, "I was going for a hot pink color but it didn't work out so well."

"And once you get out onto the ice... what do you _do_?" she asked.

"Skate," he answered simply, "You usually glide about in circles. The rink plays Muggle Christmas music... it's fun."

Ginny hopped over the curb and continued walking down the road toward the ominous Privet Drive sign. "It's amazing what they come up with," she noted, "I have to tell dad about this."

"Do you..." Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and she looked over at his reddening cheeks, "Want to... erm... go sometime?"

Ginny grinned, "I don't know how."

"I could show you... it isn't hard. I mean–if you don't want to..." Harry was stammering. _I sound like a stuttering twelve-year-old,_ he thought to himself. The part of his brain that was working at that moment was telling him he was an idiot for even asking. Just because she had a crush on him during her first few years at Hogwarts and had dated him for a few months didn't mean she _still_ fancied him.

Ginny interrupted his string of thoughts, "Are you asking me on a date, Harry Potter?"

"Err–yeah... I guess I am." There, he'd done it. He had officially asked Ginny out. And, he'd managed not to trip over anything or say anything completely embarrassing in the process.

"Sure... I mean–I'd love to." She blushed deeply and became intensely interested in her feet. It was amazing that someone as stubborn and brave as her could feel nervous. Maybe she did still harbor feelings for him. The thought of this made Harry's head sore and his stomach flip flop.

He grinned at the side of her head. "Well... I'll–pick up skates and we can go in a few weeks, yeah?"

She looked at him for the first time in a few minutes, "Yeah, that'd be good." The tips of her ears were even red. "Isn't that your Aunt and Uncle's?" She asked, pointing to a tall house that looked exactly the same as every other one on the street except for the large #4 printed above the garage.

Harry's stomach sunk back down to its normal position and he cleared his throat loudly. "Yeah... yeah, it is."

"You ready?"

"No," he admitted. "But that doesn't much matter, does it?"

"Not really," Ginny took a deep breath and reached for his hand. She laced her fingers into his and the warmth sent shock waves up his arm. "Let's go."

They slowly began trudging up the driveway. The door became larger and larger and finally Harry reached the front stoop. It was too much to hope that the Dursleys weren't home. They were _always_ home. For one fleeting second, Harry considered running back down to the sidewalk at top speed. _You're pathetic_, said a voice in his head, _you finished off Lord Voldemort and you're scared of three harmless Muggles?_ He took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell with the hand not entwined in Ginny's. A shrill ring shot through his eardrums like a fire alarm. For a second there was no noise heard from inside the house and he dared to hope nobody was home. Then, like a heard of giants tramping through a forest, came the sound of large footsteps down the stairs.

The door flew open and a huge–no, huge didn't describe the size–GIGANTIC, mustached man towered in the door frame. For a second, Harry thought he was seeing a very young Uncle Vernon. He quickly realized that the walrus looming over him was none other than Dudley Dursley. Dudley stood there with a baffled expression on his face before figuring out who it was that was standing on his front doorstep. Then, he screamed, "MUM!" and slammed the door in Harry's face.

"Charming, isn't he?" Ginny asked, with her eyebrows raised. During this whole ordeal, she still hadn't let go of Harry's hand. He was grateful for this on many levels. She was silently rubbing her thumb over the inside of his palm.

Inside the house, they heard muffled shouts and the thumping of heavy feet. Harry wasn't entirely sure the door was going to open again, but moments later, Aunt Petunia's smaller frame came into view. She opened the door a bit wider to let the two through and once they were inside the foyer, Petunia quickly scanned the street to make sure there were no neighbors watching before closing the door, sealing Harry and Ginny inside the stuffy tomb of a house.

Harry cleared his throat, feeling like he needed to say something to break the ice. "Err... how've you been, Aunt Petunia?" he asked.

"I'm fine... fine. Thank you for coming by." She wore the pained expression of someone being forced to eat a bowl of worms. "Someone from a hospital in Surrey has been calling nonstop for you for the past few months. We tried to tell them we didn't know _where_ you were, but it didn't stop them. It's probably one of _your_ kind," she added with extreme distaste. Dudley, who had been lurking around a nearby corner, stalked into the tiny hallway and plopped down on the last step, staring intently at Ginny. She gave Harry's hand a tight squeeze.

"If they're from a Muggl–err–a hospital around here, they wouldn't be a wizard," Harry said pointedly. He was going to mention that if they were, in fact, from the wizarding world, they would have just sent an owl addressed to the Weasleys as many others had done but decided not to upset his Aunt.

_Wait a second, why do I care about upsetting her?_

"If they were wizards, they would've OWLed me."

Aunt Petunia made a low growling noise. "_Well_," she said snootily, "They also sent you a few letters. I'll go get them." She smoothed her apron and managed to squeeze in between Dudley and the wall to ascend the stairs.

When she was around the corner, Ginny frowned, "Who from a muggle hospital would want to see you?" she asked.

Harry turned toward her. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. "Dunno... the only Muggles I know are the Dursleys." He tugged at his jacket and paced around the foyer.

The house was so familiar. Dudley used to chase him around the small sitting room threatening to beat him up when they were younger. Harry ran his fingers over the door to the cupboard under the stairs. He had spent ten years being periodically locked in there with no friends and nothing to do except dream of what life was like outside of Privet Drive.

Ginny came up behind him and pulled him around to face her. She offered a small smile, "You okay?"

Harry nodded.

Without saying anything else, Ginny wrapped her arms around his chest and hugged her small frame to his body. A shiver shot down his spine. It was amazing how even in the most depressing situations she was able to cheer him up. He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, nestling his nose in her hair. She smelled like vanilla.

A loud voice interrupted the content feeling. "Is _she _your girlfriend?" Dudley asked, pointing at Ginny. Harry had forgotten Dudley was molding into the stairs.

They broke apart. Harry raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, wondering how to answer him. No, she wasn't technically his _girlfriend_, but she was something...

"No, I'm not," Ginny answered.

"Oh," Dudley said. "I didn't think so. No one would date _Potter_." This last statement was less effective then it had once been. Dudley was more trying to convince himself then anyone else in the room.

Ginny strode over to where Dudley was sitting and leaned down, "Actually, most of the women in the Wizarding World _would_ date Harry. He's rather famous."

Harry blushed.

"And so would I, if he would ask me," She continued, smirking in Harry's direction. "Until then, I'm content to just keep sleeping with him."

Harry and Dudley's mouths dropped open.

_Did she just say what I thought she said?_

She stood back up and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I'll wait for you outside." Ginny walked primly over to the door, opened it and walked back out.

Dudley just sat and gaped at Harry for a minute. Harry wasn't sure if he should say something to smooth things over or not. He didn't much care what Dudley thought of him; he was a twenty-one-year-old obese loser who would probably _always_ live with his parents.

Harry was saved having to say anything else to his cousin by his Aunt Petunia's return.

"Here," she said, thrusting a pack of letters into his hands. "Thank you for not parading around in those large, pointed hats and advertising yourself as a freak." She hastily pushed him out the front door and mumbled a goodbye before slamming it shut once more.

Once safely on the other side of the sidewalk, Harry joined Ginny, trying to suppress a laugh. Her outburst had been quite amusing. She seemed to agree because she gave him a wide smile and shrugged. Harry opened the letter, Ginny peering over his shoulder.

_Mr. Harry Potter,_

_We, at the Vastus Augustus Memorial Hospital, would like to inform you of an amnesia patient who has been in our care for around two years. Up until the past month or so, he hadn't said more than a few words. However, of late, he has begun to remember names from his past._

_We have taken to calling the patient 'Red,' since he has been unable to recall his own name. The first few names he remembered were Molly and Arthur Weasley. Unfortunately, we have checked every directory and archive in Britain and were unable to find record of anyone with those names. Hopefully it means something to you.Next came Harry Potter, and he seems very concerned for your well-being. He seems to think you are in some sort of danger._

_We found a primary school in Little Whinging who had records showing that a boy with the name of Harry Potter had attended more than ten years back. The hospital got in touch with Vernon and Petunia Dursley, at No 4 Privet Drive, your last known residence._

_We are awaiting your reply, anxiously hoping you can help solve the mystery of this man's identity. If you would like to stop by, the address is listed below._

_Thank you for your time,_

_Erma P. Hinkledink_

"Who do you think it is?" Ginny asked, furrowing her brow.

"No idea... hopefully not some escaped Death Eater from Azkaban luring us out of the safety of Grimmauld Place to Crucio me on sight and force you to watch my horrific demise."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"I just jinxed myself, yeah?" Harry said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, "So young, yet so pessimistic."

Harry snorted and took his wand out. "Apparate into the alley?"

"There's an alley?"

"There's always an alley," he said, smiling.

Ginny nodded and they both disappeared with a loud POP.

* * *

The Vastus Augustus Memorial Hospital was a tiny building nestled into a busy Surrey Street. It was about seven stories high with large, glass windows around the entire thing. As Harry and Ginny pushed through the front doors, a large nurse, dressed completely in white was waiting behind a round desk, a welcoming smile adorning her round features. 

"Welcome to VAMH," she said pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

Harry stepped forward, Ginny right behind him. "My name is Harry Potter... I received a letter in the mail saying I needed to come down here. Something about a..."

"Red," she said, interrupting excitedly. "Oh, this is wonderful! We've been waiting for such a long time for him to remember something!" She turned to Ginny, then, "And you are..."

Oh–erm–Ginny... Ginny Weasley."

The nurse, identified as Helga by a brass name tag pinned to her uniform, clapped a hand over her mouth, "A _Weasley_! That's a name he's been repeating over and over again for a while now! We tried to track the lot of you down... but you are very well hidden!"

"You don't even know the _half_ of it," Ginny replied. She was knitting her brow together now, obviously wondering who in their right mind (or confused mind, as it seemed) would be talking about her from a Muggle hospital.

The two Aurors followed after Helga as she led them down a thin, white hallway with bright florescent lights beating down on them. The group climbed a flight of stairs and continued down another hallway until they reached a simple wooden door with the number 1227 painted above it.

Ginny entered first, after the nurse, and Harry hadn't even crossed the threshold when he heard her gasp. Inside the room, sitting up in bed, was Bill Weasley. He looked older, but his ginger hair was still in a long ponytail and he still wore one earring. It was unmistakably Bill Weasley.

Ginny blanched; shakily, she crossed the room, slowly making her way to the bed.

Bill stared at her. Harry wasn't positive he knew who she was, but he recognized her as someone of importance because he hadn't said a word since she appeared in the doorway.

"Do you–do you recognize him?" the nurse asked, sensing the tension in the room.

Ginny nodded, tears forming in her brown eyes. When she reached the side of his bed, she fell to her knees and began to sob uncontrollably. "Oh–Bill... Bill...." She laid her head in his lap and he put a hand on her head tentatively.

"Gi–Ginny?" he said, trying the words out. "My... sister, Ginny!"

This made Ginny sob harder. She clung to his legs and her body shook.

Harry stood in the room for another minute, mouth hanging open, not really believing the scene in front of him. Bill Weasley was... _alive?_ Missing for four years, he turned up in a Muggle Hospital, of all places. They had looked everywhere. Harry didn't think anyone even entertained the notion that the young man would resurface somewhere so _ordinary_.

Harry decided then that he needed to get to the other Weasleys as fast as possible. Not wishing to disturb Ginny, he backed slowly out of the room. Helga followed him.

"If she asks where I went, tell her I've gone to find the rest of the family," he said briskly to the nurse. Then, turning quickly around, he hurried down the hallway to the stairwell, debating the fastest way to find a member of the Weasley clan.

* * *

Remus Lupin shuffled through the stack of Gringotts bank statements in his lap. He had spent the last hour searching the remainder of the Black fortune, looking for anything out of the ordinary. 

So far, he'd discovered a small sum of money was being dumped into a Magical Herb and Fungi funded bank account down in Brazil each year. He highly doubted the research that particular company was doing was going to make a positive change in society. He wasn't surprised though; many highly esteemed Wizarding families kept the tip of their wands in the illegal drug market.

Halfway down the last page, he finally found what he'd been searching for. Remus still wasn't positive it meant anything... or maybe he hoped it didn't. Written in small, almost illegible writing was a name and then a few dates all connected with a set amount of galleons.

_Porrima Carden-Black_: _4/24/1977_

Remus frowned and read the scrolling numbers underneath. The noble and ancient house of Black had transferred money into that account for what looked like seventeen years. He tried to rack his brain–Remus _knew_ he had heard that name before. Whether or not it was linked with something important... he couldn't recall.

He sighed and closed the thick folder. Harry was picking the Pensieve up from Hogwarts in two days; after that, he would hopefully have an answer. The full-moon was on Thursday night so he'd have to wait to talk with Harry about his findings... and not take him to his grandparent's house until the following week.

Just then, said person apparated on top of the couch Remus was sitting on (actually, another few inches and Harry would have found himself sitting on Remus's lap).

"Err... sorry–couldn't concentrate," he said, fumbling down off the floral cushion.

Remus chuckled, "You'd better watch it... don't want to get splinched."

"Is Mrs. or Mr. Weasley here?" Harry asked urgently.

Remus nodded and motioned toward the kitchen. "They're finishing up the rebuttal for Rabastan Lestrange's case. Why? What's up?"

Harry turned back around. "It's Bill... he's alive."

"_What?_" Remus heard himself shout. "It's been _four years_... how can he be–are you sure?"

"Yeah–he's in a Muggle hospital near my Aunt and Uncle's house. We need to find the rest of the family. Is Ron at work?" Harry asked, heading once again toward the kitchen.

Remus nodded, "He left about an hour ago. But Harry... if Bill is alive... why hasn't he contacted anyone?" the situation sounded fishy to Remus.

Harry didn't even blink. "He has amnesia... maybe hit with a befuddlement charm or a memory spell or something. Anyway, he's beginning to remember things–my name, actually. That's why my Aunt and Uncle wanted to see me–the hospital had contacted them."

Remus nodded, that answer did make sense. "Alright, you tell Arthur and Molly and round up the twins. I'll OWL Charlie at Gringotts and find Ron and Hermione." Remus stood up and rushed past Harry to retrieve his owl.

He didn't know what to think. He was beside himself with happiness, yet, at the same time, worried that Bill would never come around. Could Arthur and Molly stand to find their son, only to lose him to amnesia?

Remus truly hoped everything would work out for the best.

* * *

Ginny sat outside the hospital room, letting Harry rub his hand up and down the length of her back. It was soothing; it meant a lot to her that he was willing to just sit next to her, without speaking, just letting her get lost in her own thoughts. 

Her mother and father and Charlie were in Bill's room now. He had definitely recognized them although no one could say how it would all turn out in the end. They were going to transfer him to St. Mungo's as soon as possible so the Healers could begin work on breaking the memory charm. The years spent in the Muggle hospital hadn't done any harm, but it would take a team of qualified, professional Healers to really cess out the damage.

"Ginny! Harry!" called Ron's voice from down the hallway. Ginny stood up as her brother made his way toward her and let him engulf her in a huge hug. He clapped Harry on the back and waved hello to Fred and George, who were sitting on the other side of the hallway. The staff had found numerous chairs for the visitors and made a makeshift sitting area in the middle of the hallway. Mr. Weasley, especially, had been grateful for the Muggles' hospitality ("_amazing_, aren't they?").

Just then, the nurse stepped out of the room, followed by Arthur and Molly. "Oh, goodness! There are more of you!" Helga cried.

Mrs. Weasley beamed. "Alright, you lot... go in and say hello. Bill's waiting." She patted the twins on their heads as they passed by her and Mr. Weasley to enter the small room. Ron visibly squeezed Hermione's hand and led her across the hallway.

"Wait... only family members for now," Helga said to the bushy-haired brunette as she scribbled something absentmindedly down on her clipboard.

Hermione made to let go of Ron's hand and join Harry and Ginny, but Ron held on steadfast. He squeezed his eyes shut and spoke softly, "She–she's my wife."

The hallway went dead silent. Harry was almost afraid to look at the two eldest Weasleys. Fred and George froze in the doorframe.

"Hermione is..." Mrs. Weasley had a pained expression on her face, "did I hear you right, Ronald?"

Ron nodded weakly. Hermione had moved to stand behind him and was not looking anyone in the eye.

Harry quickly decided that Ron should have been more tactful about his confession. Everyone, save Harry and Ginny, were utterly stunned.

Mr. Weasley recovered first. He looked as though he was still trying to contemplate what Ron had said. "How long?" he asked simply.

Ron cleared his throat. "Two–two years."

Mrs. Weasley burst out crying. Arthur went to her and gathered her up into his arms. "There, there, Molly dear," he cooed.

"Mum, I'm sorry... I just didn't want something horrible to happen because I told everyone."

Mrs. Weasley sobbed something incomprehensible.

"Huh?"

"I think she wants to know who married you," Arthur explained quickly.

Hermione now spoke up, "My... my parent's minister. We haven't even registered our marriage with the Ministry of Magic. We–we were waiting to tell everyone first." Tears were starting to fill her eyes up too. "Oh Mrs. Weasley... I'm _sooo _sorry!"

Mrs. Weasley broke away from her husband and gathered Hermione into her arms. "Call... call–me," she hiccupped, "M–Mu…MUM!"

This only made Hermione cry harder. She clung to her mother-in-law as if her life depended on it.

After a minute, Ron made to step up to his mother and receive his hug. What happened next made Harry's eyes widen in surprise.

Mrs. Weasley reached back and slapped Ron harshly across the face. "TWO YEARS, RONALD!" she spat. Then, turning on her heel, she stalked down the length of the hallway and banged through the door to the stairwell, disappearing from sight.

Ron shook his head.

Mr. Weasley spoke up next, "Well... congratulations Ron... Hermione. Don't worry about your mother, she'll come around eventually."

Fred and George patted Ron on the back and embraced their new sister-in-law before reentering Bill's hospital room. Ron and Hermione followed suit.

This left Harry alone in the hallway with Ginny and Mr. Weasley.

"That went well," Ginny stated dryly.

Harry nodded. Ron most definitely should have waited for a more opportune moment to confess his big secret.

* * *

MUAHAHA! I revealed a secret... and feel really good about it, too. Do you want to see the hints I dropped? OF COURSE you do! And, I want to know what you think: _Do you like how Ginny and Harry's relationship is progressing? Is there something you'd like to see more of? Do you have any idea who Danika Carden is?_ Let me know if you're liking it... I swear, if I could get as many reviews as I do hits... well, needless to say, it'd be amazing. 

Thanks for reading!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Ch. 2

Deirram Snor writes that _Ronald Bilius Weasley has been spotted now and again with one Hermione Jane Granger, a Muggle born, but the nature of their relationship is unclear_." —Read **Deirram Snor **backwards

Ch. 3

A good way into the chapter, Hermione dissolves into fits of giggles and says the following...

"_EFIW…!" she heaved._

"_S—snor…" She wheezed, "MAI!"_

**EFIW SNOR MAI **backwards is 'I am Rons wife.'

(Oh yes, aren't I talented?)

And...

"_Will we be calling you Mrs. Ronald Bilius Weasley anytime soon?" Alicia asked innocently._

"_You can call me that anytime you like," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes._

–I get that you were probably not taking this statement literally, but Hermione was completely serious.

Ch. 4

_The bouquet flew out of the crystal vase and Hermione only had to move forward a few steps to catch it._ –**This one is self explanatory**

_After a second his brow creased in confusion and he poked at a place on the map with his wand. "Hey, I think it's wrong, look at this na—" _

"_What are you on about? It can't be wrong, it's charmed to..." Hermione started to say. Everyone around the table was looking at them curiously._

"_Nevermind, it's–err–nothing," Harry interrupted. He folded the map and stuck it in his pocket. "Thanks, Hermione, it's great." He shot her a significant look and Hermione finally understood. She was suddenly glad she hadn't shown that map to anyone else. _**Al was looking at the map of Grimmauld Place and noticed Hermione's name looked odd. ****The map showed her name as Hermione Weasley, not Granger**

and finally... my favorite

_On the top of his dresser sat the map Hermione had given him. Glancing at it, he saw Al was already waiting in the kitchen, accompanied by three members of the Weasley family._

**But when Harry actually gets _down _to the kitchen, Al is there with Ginny, Ron, and HERMIONE. So when he was looking at the map, he saw the name **Hermione Weasley**. But since Harry already knew about their marriage, it didn't shock him that her name was different.**


	6. Return to Hogwarts

**Title: **Return to Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: **If only I _could _make money off my writing.Alas, it isn't so. Harry Potter, and his adventures belong only to JK Rowling and her affiliates.I am just borrowing them for my own amusement in order to make them do my bidding. All thanks go to the creator.

**Notes:** Okay, big 'ole thanks to le Manchot du Destin for her beta work. Our lines got crossed somehow, hence the reprint. Sorry! The next chapter is in beta, so it shouldn't take too long to post (I swear). It's written as a flashback into Sirius' life. Other notes: if you haven't yet seen _The Notebook_, definitely put it on your priority list!

* * *

Harry and Hermione had decided to stop in The Three Broomsticks before making the trek to Hogwarts. They sat at a small table, drinking butterbeer, and organizing their thoughts. Madame Rosmerta had stopped by to chat for a few minutes; mostly to congratulate them on the defeat of Voldemort. After that, Hermione sat for a few minutes in silence, not really listening to Harry. She nodded along with what he was saying, but didn't make any comments for some time. Harry gave up after a minute, and asked her what was wrong.

Hermione drummed her fingers against the edge of the table for a second. "Harry..." she said slowly.

"Hmm?" He didn't like the sound of her voice.

"What... what _really_ happened to Kreacher?"

Harry choked on his butterbeer, but Hermione continued, nonplused.

"Ron told me he lived a full, healthy life and died at the ripe, old age of 107... but if that's the truth, then why does everyone act wooly when I ask about it?"

Harry cleared his throat, "Err–because..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, fine! But if I tell you what happened, you have to _swear_ you won't reorganize S.P.E.W. or spend our time at Hogwarts rallying the house elves to fight for freedom," he said solemnly. He could just imagine her donning her button and picketing the Ministry with 'Liberation' signs.

For a second Hermione seemed to consider her options, then, making up her mind, she heaved her satchel onto the table and pushed it toward Harry.

Upon opening it, he saw what looked to be a hundred tiny wool hats and socks stuffed into the bag. Rolling his eyes, he dumped all the knitted objects out onto the table.

"_Really_, Hermione, if they don't want to be freed..."

"You don't _know_ that, Harry! These hats used to disappear like mad back when we went to Hogwarts!" she argued.

Harry sighed, "That's because Dobby used to go on treasure hunts in Gryffindor Tower. He probably had a collection of a thousand different colored hats by the time you left school 7th year."

Hermione seemed a bit put off by this sudden realization.

For his part, Harry was never planning on telling her what really befell her wonderfully knitted plan to liberate all the elves. But, she was twenty-two now, and could probably handle the information.

"Well then, about Kreacher?"

Harry rested his chin on his hand. "Well, do you remember when Sirius told us that his mum used to decapitate the house elves when they couldn't hold a tea tray anymore?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, after Kreacher... after he betrayed the Order and got Sirius killed, Mad-Eye decided they needed to keep that Black tradition alive. You know... it's what Sirius would've wanted."

"But Kreacher could still carry..."

"Yes, I'm getting to that. He wasn't too decrepit yet... probably would've been able to do his job for quite a few more years. So, Moody solved _that _particular problem by dropping a 300 lb safe on his arms." Harry attempted to stifle a laugh.

"He–but that's inhumane!" Hermione cried indignantly.

"Remember what he _did_, Hermione," Harry retorted.

"Is it the same safe that sits in the kitchen?" she asked.

"Err–yeah, they never really needed to use it for anything. Anyway, right after he broke both Kreacher's arms, Remus handed him a tea tray and asked him to carry it up the stairs. When he couldn't, Mad-Eye said they'd have to cut off his head."

Hermione looked like she was going to be sick. "Honestly... if I'd have known!"

"This is exactly why we didn't tell you! Besides, it was Kreacher's _dream_ to have his head mounted on the wall with the rest of his ancestors!"

"But I've never seen his head on the wall in the hallway," Hermione replied, furrowing her brow in thought.

"Right... well... it's not on _that_ particular wall," Harry replied.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Err... your mother-in-law owled it to Narcissa Malfoy," he snorted.

* * *

Hermione and Harry left the Three Broomsticks a little while later, ready to walk the short path to Hogwarts.

The chilly November air bit at Harry's ears and he wished for a moment that he had kept his old school scarf. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Hermione spoke up.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I was talking to Ginny this morning... she–she told me that you asked her on a date," Hermione looked at her friend with interest.

Harry hoped Hermione attributed the color in his cheeks to the cool breeze. "Do you think she's lying?"

"Well... no. I just–well... I'm really, really happy for you. I _knew_ you still fancied her," she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it lightly.

Harry moved his satchel further onto his shoulder and ran a hand through his dark, tangled tresses. "Err–yeah, I do."

"She's really looking forward to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So... did you talk any more with Ron's mum and dad about..." he trailed off, checking to make sure she was okay with the conversation topic.

Hermione absentmindedly fingered the wedding ring she was finally able to wear. "Yeah... well... his mum was upset, but she's been great to me. I think the whole family is pretty preoccupied with Bill right now." Hermione sighed, "He's being transferred to St. Mungo's today, you know. The Healers there think that he may be alright eventually."

"It's a good sign that he remembered his family when he saw them," Harry replied. He had studied Befuddlement spells and Memory charms a great deal during his Auror training. Some wore off eventually, others lasted forever. If Bill was recalling names and faces, he'd have his memory back in no time.

"It's amazing, isn't it? For four years, we thought he was dead... then he just springs up out of nowhere. It makes you wonder how many other cases there'll be like this."

Harry nodded in agreement. He desperately hoped other families would be as lucky as the Weasleys were in recovering lost relatives.

"Well... here we are... you ready?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry glanced up; they were standing outside the castle gates. They had been so wrapped up in conversation, Harry hadn't even noticed when they had arrived at their destination. Looking up, he saw the towering stone buildings rising up from every angle around him. The lake was glistening nearby and in the distance, he could make out the innocent form of the Whomping Willow, swaying restlessly in the breeze. He was home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxflashbackxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Harry hadn't even made it past the first step when he saw him get hit. But, Rodolphus Lestrange wouldn't be able to take sole credit for Albus Dumbledore's demise; it had taken four Death Eaters and a surprise attack to finish the job they'd been sent to Hogwarts to do._

_Now, you're probably wondering how four Death Eaters managed to sneak into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the first place. It was actually quite simple. You see, the school's one fault was that it was built under the rule that parents could _always_ visit their children during the school year. Therefore, Lucius Malfoy, Gregory Goyle Sr., and Daryl Nott didn't even have to sneak onto the grounds. The three of them, plus Rodolphus, just sauntered up to the front gates like normal people. Normal people on a mission to kill the headmaster._

_All Harry could hear was blood pounding through his eardrums. He didn't feel his robe tear as Professor Snape tried to stop him from rushing toward Dumbledore; he didn't hear McGonagall shouting at him from her place near the entrance to the castle. The only thing he could see was his headmaster's form slowly crashing toward the last stone step, his wand the last to land, clattering out of reach._

_Harry reached Dumbledore with lightning speed and crouched down beside him._

_"Headmaster... please..." he cried, "please don't leave me! I'm not ready... I can't fight him alone."_

_Dumbledore opened his kind, understanding eyes for the last time, "You will, Harry." _

_The old man had never looked so fragile. Tears were streaming down Harry's cheeks and landing in Dumbledore's rumpled beard._

_"Remember, son, death is simply another step that everyone must take... even Tom Riddle." He coughed and struggled for breath. _

_Harry wiped tears from his eyes with the edge of his sleeve and mechanically shoved his glasses closer to his nose. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds of wand-fire around him._

_"Harry..."_

_Harry leaned his ear down to Dumbledore's lips, trying to take in every word he was saying._

_"Remember... evil protected him from death... but love will be his demise–Omnia Vincit Amor."_

_And with that, Albus Dumbledore, was gone._

Xxxxxxxxxxend flashbackxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As they hurried through the hallways, past quite a few gaping students, Hermione felt excitement surge through her body. This castle had been her home for seven years. True, it hadn't always been wonderful; but she couldn't imagine changing any of it.

Harry and Hermione walked past the Great Hall, up the stairs (Harry almost got his foot stuck in the trip step), and down the long corridors toward the Headmistress' office. Midway through, they ran into Peeves, who was in the middle of stalking Argus Filch and singing a nasty rendition of _Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater_ and blowing raspberries whenever Filch looked back.

"Causing trouble, are you? Nasty students and their nasty tricks..." Filch sneered at the two ex-Hogwarts students.

He was obviously not in the best of moods.

"Err–no, we're just going to talk to Minerva," Hermione replied easily. They walked around the caretaker, who now had a look of putrid despair set on his wrinkled face.

"If I see either of you put a toe out of line, I'll get the whips! Mrs. Norris and I'll hang you by your toenails and force-feed you fried beans for the rest of your lives!" he screamed at their retreating forms.

When Filch was out of earshot, Hermione turned back to Harry and stifled a laugh, "I–I believe he's gone a bit mad, yeah?"

Harry nodded vigorously, "Total mental case... d'you reckon he realizes we graduated four years ago?"

Hermione was about to respond when two, young (first years by the looks of them) girls with blonde ponytails advanced on the couple. They were swinging their backpacks over their shoulders and giggling profusely.

"You're Harry Potter!" one announced pointedly.

Harry didn't even blink, "I know," he stated.

More giggling.

"Can we... have your autograph?" the other, slightly taller one asked. She looked a bit shy; her cheeks were a fine shade of red. Both girls were wearing the Gryffindor house colors of maroon and gold.

Harry looked at Hermione for help but she just shrugged. Most people would assume he'd be used to attention by now. Truthfully though, he'd spent the past four years (or more) in hiding, so the most contact he'd had with the public was at the Ministry of Magic.

"Err–sure..." Harry said awkwardly. The girl on the left pulled a quill and two pieces of parchment out of her backpack and handed them to Harry. His nerves seemed to settle then, because he asked their names and which year they were in, making light conversation. A few minutes later, after saying he'd see them during Defense Against the Dark Arts, they scampered away.

"Potter! Granger!" shouted the voice of Minerva McGonagall from down the hallway.

They crossed the length of the corridor to meet her.

"Err–actually, it's Hermione Weasley, Minerva," Hermione admitted timidly.

"Finally decided to tell his parents then, yes?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Hermione didn't even want to guess how the professor knew she and Ron were married. Hermione simply nodded an affirmation.

"Well, congratulations, then," Minerva said, beaming at the younger woman through her spectacles. On very rare occasions during school were students allowed to see the true person underneath the hard exterior that made up _Professor_ McGonagall. Through their work with the Order, however, Harry and Hermione were acquainted with Minerva, the woman who was strict as nails but loved to wear her hair down occasionally (both literally and figuratively).

"Now then, follow me and I'll give you a list of Defense classes," she said, arching her back and walking briskly toward the large, stone Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office. After giving the password (Treacle Tart), the group continued up the winding steps toward the thick door the opened to the large office.

The various portraits hanging in the comfortable office were all wide awake and looking at the visitors with interest. Harry waved hello to Phineas Nigelis, the relative of Sirius' that also had a picture in Grimmauld Place.

The office itself looked relatively similar to when it was inhabited by Dumbledore. Fawkes the Phoenix was snoozing on his perch (he looked like he was about to keel over and die, though, quite literally), there were still dozens of magical mechanical items on the shelves lining the walls, and the same huge, mahogany desk sat near the entrance. Now, however, McGonagall had added a few photos of her own family to the desk; moving photographs of small children waving and giggling (grandchildren, perhaps?), and one of herself and her husband.

"Your first class of the day will be at 11:30 with the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor 2nd years." She scanned the list, "Hufflepuff and Slytherin 1st years after lunch, and then Gryffindor 5th years at 4p.m. I trust you came prepared?" she asked, handing the schedule to Hermione.

Hermione nodded vigorously.

Harry glanced at the schedule in her hands, "Hey... when we were in school, we usually had to sit through classes with the Slytherins..."

"Yes... well, that was _always_ a catastrophe. I changed the schedule around a bit. Professor Dumbledore, rest his soul, believed that eventually, the students in Gryffindor and Slytherin would begin to get along. I've found that keeping those particular houses separate has lowered visits to the hospital wing during classes considerably."

0-0-0-0

Harry and Hermione thanked Professor McGonagall for letting them come and said they'd see her at lunchtime.

Hermione wanted to head straight to the library before their Defense class, but Harry persuaded her to hold off until later. He wanted to visit Hagrid before they did anything else. It had been ages since he'd seen the half-giant. Since the war officially ended, Hagrid hadn't been spending much time at Grimmauld Place. In fact, Harry had only seen him stop by once since he'd awoke from his coma in September.

As the two made their way across the grounds toward the hut, Harry marveled at how much, despite how long they'd been gone, the castle still felt like home. It had, after all, been his first _real_ home. He'd never had friends before Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione were the first of many.

"It's nice being back," he said, breathing in the clean, November air. In the distance, Harry could see Hagrid, carrying a dead animal over his shoulder, walking out of the Forbidden Forest.

"It'll be wonderful to be back in the library," Hermione said, wistfully looking back toward the castle.

Harry rolled his eyes; Hermione's personality definitely hadn't changed over the years. She would still rather read then watch Quidditch (perhaps even if Ron was playing) and would rather spend all day in the library than anywhere else on the face of the planet.

"Harry! Hermione!" roared Hagrid's gruff voice from down the path.

The pair waved a greeting as they made their way past the pumpkin patch and a few assorted cages (some of which were relatively large, Harry noted).

Hagrid dropped his dead... _deer..._ and engulfed Harry and Hermione into a gigantic bear hug.

"How've the two a' you been gettin' on?" he asked, beetle eyes gleaming with happiness.

"We've been alright! Can't wait until we can move out of Grimmauld Place," Hermione told him as she picked loose deer hair off her jumper.

"Thas' right, I heard ya've been off gettin' married. Ron Weasley of all people! Ya couldnt'a picked a better one, Hermione!" he said tearfully, wiping his eyes with a dirty handkerchief.

Hermione blushed.

"An what 'bout you, Harry? Anyone special yur wait'n on?" His damp eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Err–no, not right now," he admitted.

"Actually, Harry has a date," Hermione said, poking him in the side.

Harry blushed and scuffed his trainer into the dirt.

Hagrid beamed at him, "Is that right? Good for ya', Harry! Ya' deserve a bit 'o happiness now that the business with... You-Know-Who is done wit'... so who's the lucky girl?"

Hermione answered for him, obviously intent on heightening his embarrassment. "Ginny Weasley!"

"Is that right! I always thought the two 'o ya made a nice pair," Hagrid replied, crossing his arms and staring at Harry solemnly.

"Err–thanks. So... what about you, Hagrid? What've you been up to lately?" Harry was desperate to point the conversation in a different direction.

"Oy! I should show ya'! C'mere! Lemme show ya what I 'ave in store for kids this year!"

Harry and Hermione blanched and exchanged glances. Last time they'd heard Hagrid say those words was during the blast-ended-screwt escapade. There was also Baby Norbert, Beaky the Hippogriff, Grawp (he turned out fine... after a while), _and_ his pet acromantula. The list of Hagrid's dangerous 'pets' went on and on. Harry couldn't imagine what could be worse than a pet dragon or giant spider... then again... this was Hagrid they were talking about.

They followed Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest, glancing about nervously.

"Err... Hagrid?" Hermione asked timidly, "We have a class to teach in forty-five minutes... this isn't... going to take too long, is it?"

Harry had been thinking the same thing. Perhaps now wasn't the time for a long journey into a death trap.

"Aw, don't ya worry, Hermione! You'll be back in no time! I promise it won't take long." He kept stomping through the tall grass and moving aside trees for another five minutes before they finally reached a small clearing. There was a fence surrounding the entire space, and in the center, there were the remnants of an old fire pit, probably gone unused for a long time.

Harry squinted for a second before the creatures in the pen came into view. They resembled Gnomes, somewhat; there were four or five of them in all. Harry noticed that each one was about three-foot tall with pale pink skin. Suddenly, the one nearest to the gate omitted a loud, sharp cackle.

Harry covered his ears. Glancing at Hermione, he saw she was staring fixedly at the elfish creature with a scowl set upon her features.

"Hagrid," Harry shouted above the cackling dwarf, "What the bloody hell _are_ those things?"

Hagrid didn't hear Harry.

"Erklings," Hermione answered instead.

_Of course she knows what they are. I forgot I was spending time with the human dictionary._

Hagrid beamed at Harry and Hermione, "Aren't they lovely?" he asked, expecting them to be equally excited.

Harry decided that these Erklings were probably the mildest pet Hagrid had ever owned.

"Hagrid," Hermione said pointedly, "They're classified as very dangerous..."

Hagrid waved a hand to dismiss her protest. "Aw, they aren't so bad. Just got some irregular eat'n habits, 's all." He grinned as a smaller Erkling let out a high pitched cackle.

"Erm... what _do_ they eat?" asked Harry, not quite sure he wanted to know the answer.

The next word Hagrid spoke came out as a cough. "Children."

Harry gaped.

"Hag–Hagrid... you _do_ realize this is a SCHOOL that's full of kids." Hermione looked at the half-giant in astonishment.

"Course! But they won't harm no one... just got'ta keep 'em locked up 's all." Hagrid flung a pair of dead ferrets over the fence.

"And... what if they _do_ get out?" Harry asked, watching as the little creatures scurried forward toward the food. The closest one grasped the ferret tightly in its fingers, snapped the neck, and bit the head off.

Harry winced.

Hermione whimpered and looked away.

"They won't... don't ya be worrying 'bout nothing, Harry!"

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him away from the fence. "Well... erm–good luck with them, Hagrid," she said carefully. "We should probably be heading back up to the castle... don't want to miss our first lessons!"

Hagrid gave each of them another giant hug and tearfully waved goodbye as they made their way out of the forest.

When the pair was out of earshot, Hermione turned toward Harry, seething. "_Honestly!_ They _eat_ children! I wonder if there's an animal on the planet that he'd consider dangerous!"

Harry just shook his head in disbelief. It could have been worse, though. He could just imagine Hagrid journeying to a tiny island off the coast of Scotland to capture a Quintaped.

* * *

Al stepped into Kingsley Shacklebolt's dimly lit office, feeling slightly apprehensive. Offhand, he couldn't think of any reason he had been summoned by the Chief Auror. True, there had been the little mishap a few weeks back when he'd charmed all the 'Wanted Wizard' posters in the office to sing a rousing rendition of 'Oops, I did it Again,' whenever someone would walk past; but Harry had been the one blamed for it (being raised by Muggles had made him a prime suspect to begin with). Alright, and there _had_ been that incident last week when he'd put a babbling hex on Melvin during his Stealth and Concealment exam. But other than that, he was completely innocent!

Kingsley glanced up, "Ah... Baldwin! Excellent!" He tossed a file folder carelessly on the desk. Al reached over to pick it up; written across the top were the words 'Confederation de Mágica: Caçador.' (Confederation of Magic: Hunter).

"What's this?" he asked, thumbing through the pages with little interest.

"Portuguese Confederation of Magic," the elder Auror explained. "They've offered to help with the Death Eater hunt." He sat back in the chair and folded his hands. "You and Potter are going to work out the details. A small team of their Dark Wizard Hunters will be visiting after the Holidays. I want the two of you to show them around our headquarters, train with them, and convince them to help us. If we can get the cooperation of a few more countries, we could have this situation mopped up in no time."

"Sir... why not assign this to a more experienced team?" Al asked. He didn't understand why he was being trusted to entertain foreign dignitaries. Wasn't that the Minister of Magic's job?

"Simple. Your partner is famous for finishing Voldemort and _you_ are a good negotiator. I have complete faith in both of you." He paused for a minute, "Although, I may ask a couple trainees to keep you in line." His dark eyes twinkled.

Al stood up, proud that his supervisor found him competent. "Thank you, sir. When do arrive?"

Kingsley sat forward and glanced at the calendar lying atop the desk. "Have you planned the next D.A. meeting?"

Al nodded, "Harry has it set for two weeks after New Years."

"I'll work it out with the Chancellor, then, and let you know."

Al thanked him again and left the office feeling excited to be a part of a task that didn't involve camping out in front of a house for twelve hours and waiting for Narcissa Malfoy to _do something_. Hopefully, they would be able to relay the urgency of the situation. And, if not, Harry could always duel them into submission.

Al chortled at his quick thinking.

* * *

Professor Parry was a young man, probably in his late thirties. Harry was positive his hair was fake, though, despite his age. It sat on his head at an odd angle, and Harry could have sworn he saw it quiver when the man bent over. Parry also seemed a bit jittery, but welcomed them into his classroom nonetheless.

It was disconcerting to walk into a classroom and have all eyes on you, Harry quickly decided. True, he had lead the D.A. for quite some time, but having the attention of twenty-five twelve-year-olds was not the same as being watched by your peers. Usually, second-years had the attention span of Al in a library; about ten minutes. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students, however, sitting in desks in front of him, were staring, unblinking, at him and Hermione.

"I would like everyone to give a warm welcome to our guest speakers; Hermione Granger and Harry Potter!" Parry said loudly.

"Weasley... it's Hermione Weasley," Hermione interrupted proudly.

Echoes of 'Good morning' and 'hello' were heard around the room.

"Erm... hello," Harry returned nervously. Now that he was actually standing at the front of the classroom, he didn't really know where to begin. He shot Hermione a hopeful look.

She was already pulling out a notebook. "Perhaps we should start with questions?" she asked Harry.

He nodded. "Sounds fine... does anyone have a question before we begin?" Thinking back to his days at Hogwarts, he couldn't remember having a single question for their guest speakers. But, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, every hand around the room shot into the air.

Harry was stunned.

He chose a blonde girl in the front row. She was wearing Gryffindor red and gold. She beamed before she started to talk, "You were the Head Boy and Girl your seventh year, right?"

Hermione answered for both of them, "Yes, we were."

"And you were both in Gryffindor?" asked a small boy in the back, also wearing the Gryffindor colors.

Harry nodded.

The Gryffindor students in the classroom clapped and whooped.

Harry and Hermione exchanged smiles.

Professor Parry clapped his hands together fiercely, "Alright, everyone! I want to hear questions about the _subject_!"

A few people groaned and a couple hands went down.

Hermione leaned against Parry's desk and picked on a Ravenclaw girl with bushy brown hair.

"What spell did you use to defeat You-Know-Who?"

"It was quite complicated, actually," Hermione tried to explain. "It was sort of a cross between an exorcism and a love spell. Harry was able to drive out the evil and replace it with love." She paused for a minute to check Harry's reaction.

He stared ahead with blank eyes.

"It... destroyed him from the inside out," he finished.

There were a few whispers among the captivated audience.

"And were you really held hostage until August?" another asked.

Harry nodded and cleared his throat, "The Death Eaters that were left after the final battle captured a few of us. They were trying to trade us for some of the imprisoned Voldemort supporters, but the Ministry wouldn't negotiate."

Nervous whispers filled the classroom at the mention of Voldemort's name. Harry and Hermione ignored them.

"The Aurors found us after three months in captivity," Hermione added.

Harry clapped his hands and stood up, "Alright, enough about Voldemort... why don't we start practicing some useful spells?"

The students started chatting excitedly.

"Everyone get out your wands and move your desks toward the wall," Harry said as he pulled out his own wand.

When everyone was settled around him and Hermione, and Professor Parry had brought out a box of cushions, Harry explained what they were about to do.

"Now, my partner, Al, thinks this is the most important charm he ever learned. I think it's because he's lazy, but he says it's useful..." Harry was hit with an amusing mental image of Al, sitting in his cubicle, summoning objects from across the room instead of standing up and getting them himself.

"We realize this is a charm, but since we've both used it against Death Eaters ourselves, Harry and I decided it would be a good place to start," Hermione explained.

"Watch carefully... Accio cushion!" Harry called, flicking his wand in the direction of the pile of cushions. A cushion in the middle of the pile flew toward him, landing perpendicular at his feet.

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Accio cushion." Her cushion flew directly into her outstretched arms.

Harry chuckled as the class clapped, "Well... she was always loads better than me at Charms," he explained.

He divided the class into groups to practice, and he and Hermione walked around to monitor their activities. Near the end of the class, they each had a chance to show off their skills to Harry and Hermione.

Most attempted to summon quills or parchment, but one of the last students, a Gryffindor to boot, named Landon made the rest of the students (and Harry) laugh when he summoned a toilet seat from a nearby bathroom.

Soon after, Landon's friend, another Gryffindor, summoned Professor Parry's toupee (Parry dismissed the class after this episode, giving both boys a detention).

Harry quickly decided they were both Marauder material. As the rest of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were picking up and leaving, he called the two over, asking to speak to them privately. They exchanged worried glances and followed them into a corner.

Hermione made to wait for him, but Harry told her he'd meet her in the Great Hall for lunch in a few minutes. She gave him an odd look, but complied, nonetheless.

After the classroom had emptied, Harry asked the two boys their names.

Landon cleared his throat awkwardly, "Erm—Landon Delmer." He had dark hair that fell into his eyes with rare grace, and deep, scorching blue eyes. His Hogwart's robe laid awkwardly on his twelve-year-old frame.

The other boy was an inch taller, and had short, brown hair. He shifted awkwardly. "Charlie Boot."

Harry grinned and rummaged around in his satchel. The two boys looked on curiously.

"Err... Mr. Potter–it was meant to be a joke, you know," Charlie said.

Harry looked up, "You aren't in trouble... and please, call me Harry."

The two boys breathed a sigh of relief.

"Have either of you ever heard of Fred and George Weasley?" he asked, finally finding what he was looking for in his bag.

The two boys nodded excitedly.

"Of course we do! They own the joke shop!" Landon exclaimed.

"That place is bloody brilliant. We picked up loads of dung bombs and Skiving Snackboxes during the summer... although, I probably shouldn't tell you that," Charlie added, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Harry snorted and waved away his concern, "I won't tell anyone. Anyway, Fred and George are good friends of mine; I think they'd like the two of you."

Landon and Charlie beamed.

"And, I reckon they'd have no objection of my passing this along to you." Into their hands, he thrust an old, bare piece of parchment.

The boys eyed him suspiciously.

Harry touched the parchment with his wand, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Immediately, ink lines began spreading throughout the parchment. They twisted and turned to form hallways and classrooms. Small name bubbles were floating around with ease.

After a minute of stunned silence, the boys turned over the map in their hands.

"This... this is Hogwarts!" Landon exclaimed.

Harry smiled.

Charlie leaned forward and squinted at the map, "Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present the Marauder's Map."

"My father and his friends made this when they went to Hogwarts. Every staircase, hallway, hidden corner, and classroom is etched in detail," Harry announced proudly.

The two boys exchanged looks of mischief.

"And is that... really Filch and Mrs. Norris in the hallway?" Landon asked, pointing to a moving bubble heading toward the classroom.

Harry nodded. "Mischief managed," he said, poking the map again with his wand. The ink lines disappeared, leaving the parchment blank once again.

"Now, there are two rules you have to promise to follow if I'm going to let you have this. First, you have to keep it to yourselves and use it well. Second, you have to pass it on when you leave Hogwarts. There's no use in keeping it; it doesn't work anywhere else."

Landon and Charlie nodded vigorously.

Harry handed Charlie the map. He placed it carefully in his backpack.

"Thanks... Harry!" Landon said.

"We'll take really good care of it, we promise!" Charlie added.

Harry watched them as walked out of the classroom. He wouldn't tell Hermione about giving them the map; she most definitely would _not_ approve. Part of him was sad for giving up such a huge part of his history; that map had gone everywhere with him during his time at Hogwarts. He, Ron, and Hermione had gotten into loads of trouble with it, but it _could_ be argued that they would have gotten into more trouble without it. But, this is what his father and Sirius would have wanted; the map passed along to another era of Marauders. Perhaps the reason it had been confiscated during their seventh year was because they _let_ it be; enabling the Weasley twins to discover it years later.

* * *

Hermione smiled at Madame Pince as she walked to the front of the library to retrieve the next set of student records. Being in the Hogwart's library again was invigorating. She pulled out the scrap of paper that Remus had given her before he left.

_Porrima Carden-Black: 4/24/77_

She had already gone through all of the names in the Black family without finding what she was looking for. Hermione flipped quickly to the C's and trailed a finger down the list.

_Cabbort, Cachmen, Cagshire, Cahome, Callhart, Cammy, Capera..._

_**Carden, Farrah L.**: **Slytherin. Sept 1972-Dec, 1976**_

**_Carden, Cheryl K.: Ravenclaw. Sept 1976-June 1983_**

_**Carden, Ralph: Slytherin. Sept 1941-June 1948**_

Hermione frowned. She'd been hoping to find Danika... not that it had been likely. The list continued to name members of the Carden family dating back to the 1700's. The one that stuck out to Hermione, though, was Farrah Carden. She didn't attend Hogwarts for the full seven years. Either the records were wrong (not likely) or she'd left before completing her fifth year.

Hermione scribbled down Farrah's full name and replaced the giant book. Veering left, she made her way to the back of the library to search the yearbooks.

It took her about ten minutes to find what she was looking for. Flipping through the pages of a dusty volume marked, 'Student Records: 1972,' she finally located Farrah.

An attractive, blonde-haired, 11-year-old smiled up at Hermione. The little girl scratched her nose and giggled, scrunching up her blue eyes with glee. Underneath her photo, was written her name and house (Slytherin). Hermione had been hoping to get an idea of why she had left. Perhaps she had fallen ill? Died?

Then, out of the corner of her eye, another name grabbed her attention. In the far left corner of the page, was the name _'Regulus A. Black: Slytherin'_. He looked quite a bit like Sirius, Hermione decided, but with obvious differences. The Regulus in the picture was rigid, poised. His eyes were gray, like Sirius', but they didn't appear mischievous or cheerful, more angry than anything else.

So, Regulus was in the same year as Farrah Carden.

A light seemed to flick on inside Hermione's head. Once again, she glanced down at the piece of paper in her hand.

_Porrima Carden-Black..._

"Found anything?" came Harry's voice from behind her.

Hermione jumped; she dropped the book.

Harry reached down and picked it up. "Farrah Carden... but she's too old to be the same woman." He handed the yearbook back. Hermione noticed he was an odd pink color and his hair was damp, making it stick up at odd angles. He'd probably been on the Quidditch pitch.

"Harry... this Farrah girl was in the same year _and_ the same house as Regulus Black, Sirius' little brother."

Harry furrowed his brow. "...And?"

"And according to the records... she left school before finishing her fifth year."

He still looked perplexed.

She handed him her scrap of paper.

"This is the name that Remus found in the Black's bank statements..." He seemed to be putting two and two together.

"What if Sirius wasn't the last living member of the Black family?" she began to get excited.

"Are you saying that Regulus got this girl pregnant when they went to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. He scratched his head and stared intently at the book in Hermione's lap.

"That's _exactly_ what I think happened," she stated firmly. "And I think she was forced to leave school soon thereafter."

"Porrima was born in April 1977... Farrah would have been, what... five months pregnant when she left school in December? Wouldn't someone have found out?"

Hermione shook her head, "She wouldn't have been very big at five months, the Hogwarts robes can probably conceal quite a bit. And, maybe her child was premature... who knows," Hermione took the piece of paper back from Harry.

"But, then why didn't Sirius know about her? And why isn't she on the family tree?" Harry sat down next to Hermione between the giant bookshelves.

Hermione thought for a minute. "Maybe Sirius didn't know... he ran away from home his sixth year, it isn't likely anyone from his family would have gone out of the way to tell him about it. And maybe she isn't on the Black family tree because it was an embarrassment to the family."

"It _was _1977..."

"And, they did give her money for years afterward... what if their families struck up some sort of deal for her silence? The possibilities are endless." Hermione was feeling increasingly proud of herself for unraveling the mystery. Although, it would be difficult to prove.

"But what does this have to do with Danika Carden? We still haven't found a record of anyone with _that_ name." Harry leaned his head back against the shelf and glanced at Hermione, hoping she'd have an answer.

Hermione smiled wickedly, "Unless, they're the same person."

* * *

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Harry taught the next few classes without further incident, although, he did have to go over his defeat of Voldemort twice more for curious students. And, Hermione received a marriage proposal from a hopeful 5th year Hufflepuff (quite amusing, in Harry's opinion).

Despite enjoying his time back at the school, Harry couldn't wait to get back to London to turn over the Pensieve to Remus and explain their findings.

When Harry arrived at Remus' flat, he pounded excitedly into the living room. Remus was lying on the couch, reading, with Tonks at his feet.

Harry didn't have a chance to feel embarrassed at his intrusion. He thrust the Pensieve into the older man's hand and smiled.

Remus was looking ill. The full moon would rise that night, and, despite the Wolfsbane potion, he _would _turn into a werewolf. His amber eyes sat back behind shadows and his skin was almost colorless. Tonks was running her fingers up and down his leg soothingly.

"Thank you, Harry," he said as he set the object down on the coffee table. "I have a few things I'd like to go through. If I remember anything useful, I'll let you know." He smiled at Harry and lay back against the sofa. "Did Hermione find what she was looking for at Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed, "There was a woman named Farrah Carden that was a year behind you at school... a Slytherin. We're not positive, but she may be Danika Carden's mother." Harry paused and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "She left school before her fifth year."

Remus nodded. He looked deep in thought. "I vaguely remember the name..."

Harry handed Remus the piece of paper with Porrima's name written on it.

"No mention of a Porrima Carden-Black, I assume?" Remus asked, waving the paper around.

Tonks grabbed it from him. "I'll run it through the channels at the Ministry... see if I can come up with anything. Maybe we'll get lucky and find a birth certificate."

"Porrima could be Danika, using a different name," Harry said confidently.

"That's entirely possible," Tonks said, nodding.

Remus massaged his temples. "Well, come back on Friday. We can discuss it further when we go to visit your Grandparent's old house."

In the excitement of their discovery, Harry had all but forgotten about the impending journey to Godric's Hollow. His stomach was full of nervous butterflies. Thanking Remus, he disapparated back to Grimmauld Place. The house was quiet as he brewed a pot of tea.

If Porrima was, in fact, related to Sirius somehow, they would find out. And hopefully, they could take Danika Carden down in the process.

* * *

-

Porrima - _Gamma Virginis, A star in the constellation Virgo._ Also, the Roman Goddess of Childbirth.

Omnia Vincit Amor - Love Conquers All


	7. Siriusly Disturbed

**Title: **Siriusly Disturbed

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or his affiliates.

**Notes:** This entire chapter is written as a flashback.

Lovage: a European herb used in befuddlement draughts. Sirius crushes them and wraps them in his herbal concoction (okay, his _joints_... there, I said it)

Hellebore: A poisonous plant that, when ground up, can be used for medicinal purposes including (but not limited to) mental disorders

_And so we begin: August 1976, Sirius is about to enter his 6th Year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_------------------------------------------------------------------_

The Summer parties were always the same; pureblood freaks waltzing around in satin robes, holding glasses of wine in their perfectly manicured hands, gossiping about hierarchy and whispering about Voldemort. Sirius had decided, at the tender age of eleven, that _tojours pur_ was perversely unethical. So he had spent the last five annual August affairs locked in the wine closet, downing whiskey and smoking coca. The year before last, he had tried to play 'Intoxicated Quidditch' with a few relatives, and ended up hitting Regulus in the face with the beater's club.

_Whoops._

At the time, he wasn't able to understand why his mother was so upset; Regulus was only unconscious for about thirty seconds and the bruise wasn't _that _big.

This year, however, he was in charge of the 'We're all pureblood lunatics' speech, so avoiding all social contact with the party-goers was impossible. His parents wanted to convince their friends that, even though Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, he was still a member of the Black family at heart.

Sirius decided, after six firewhiskeys and a bottle of gin, that they could all bugger off. As he stepped up onto the back patio (alright, so he _stumbled_ onto the back patio, quite by accident, actually), all eyes turned toward him. The laughter and conversation died down, and the only noise came from the soft chamber music.

"Good evening!" Sirius began, clanking his spoon harshly against a crystal wine goblet. He took a deep breath, and began his speech. "Most of you know who I am, but for those who don't, I am Sirius Black, otherwise known as the pitiful family member who was sorted into Gryffindor."

Light laughter followed this statement.

Braving a look toward his parents, Sirius saw them exchange a worried look.

Sirius continued, unconcerned. He raised his glass into the air. "I would like to propose a toast to all the... muggle born witches and wizards in Britain!"

It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the backyard. Silence was a thick blanket, wrapping around the entire crowd. Those who had never met Sirius were waiting for the punch line; those who had, were waiting for him to be hexed.

"I realized something tonight," he slurred, after taking a sip from his glass, "I realized that most of my _Mudblood_ friends have more brains than the lot of you combined! In fact, compared to any one of them, you're all a bunch of whiny lunatics!"

Sirius' mother was now slumped into a nearby chair, fanning herself. His father was shoving his way toward Sirius, a mad glint in his eye.

"And here comes my father! Ladies and gentle-wizarrrddss, the Loonyest-est of them all... Mr. 'My son is stark-raving-mad!' Albert Black!"

Sirius rather thought that the end of his speech would have been what legends were made of. Unfortunately, he was dragged off the stage by his irate father, and immediately sent to his room. The last person he saw as he rounded the corner to ascend the stairs, was his brother, sniggering lightly at his expense.

Sirius stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed onto his queen-sized bed. For a second, he considered attempting to floo to the Potter's house but quickly dismissed the idea. Even if he did manage to clear his head enough to exit through the correct gate, he doubted James' parents would appreciate the state he was currently in. Instead, he pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled off his black, formal vest.

The logs in the fireplace across the room were crackling loudly, otherwise, the only noise was from the party downstairs. His bedroom was large, probably twice the size of the kitchen, and there was a bathroom connected at the west corner. His walk-in closet was littered with clothes and shoes and Quidditch magazines and his Hogwart's trunk was lying on its side near the bed ready to be loaded with books for the coming school year.

Sirius blinked a few times, trying in vain to clear his vision. His head spun and his stomach churned. He wasn't sure whether the latter was from the immense amount of alcohol he had consumed or the impending visit from his father. Either way, he decided he'd better start preparing himself for the worst.

He stretched to reach the bedside table on his right side. Opening the door, he pulled out a package of rolling papers and a small bag of what appeared to be, at first glance, harmless herbs. It was, in reality, his own mixture of lovage leaves, lavender, his mother's sleeping pills crushed into a fine powder, coca, and a bit of hellebore for good measure. This was a concoction he had perfected a long time ago, maybe around eleven? It enabled him to endure his father's merciless beatings without so much as flinching. Usually he wouldn't remember much in the morning, either; in fact, it would probably be about 3-4 hours before he would feel anything at all, and by that time, he would be under the influence of some sort of pain potion lying unused in the house.

Sirius finished rolling the paper around his mixture and licked it closed. He threw the empty bag into the trash bin on the side of his bed and grabbed a pack of matches out of the same drawer that housed all his ingredients. Lighting the wrap, he inhaled the fumes deeply and leaned back against the headboard. _Only one more week until I'm back at Hogwarts_, he thought to himself.

He had never told any of his friends how bad his home life really was, or how he 'occasionally' resorted to using magically induced herbs as an anesthetic. He doubted any of them would believe him anyway, save James. It wasn't that he felt he _couldn't_ tell his best friend, he was just afraid James would get angry over his weakness, or worse, pity him. Smoking a coca mixture wasn't a huge deal in the Black family. Sirius was positive a small sum of their income went to funding research in the area of magical herbs and fungi. They always had it around the house, hidden of course, but finding it wasn't difficult.

Anyway, in a little under a week he wouldn't need it anymore. Normally he didn't smoke it at school, there was no reason to. True, he always brought some for the train ride home at winter holiday, but that was only to prepare himself for the depressing return home. And even then, he always did it in the bathroom of the Hogwart's Express with the window open so no one would know. Once or twice, his friends had noticed something odd on the train ride back but had attributed it to his anxiety at seeing his family again.

Sirius took another hit and knocked his shoes off; they fell to the floor with a loud THUMP. He settled in and tried to get as comfortable as possible, but found this to be difficult; he couldn't stop thinking about the visit from his father. It was looming over his head like a dark cloud. This fear increased when he heard the distinct sound of footfalls outside the room. He didn't even bother putting out the blunt. If he was going to get hit, he wanted to be as numb as humanly possible.

The door opened and light spilled into the room from the hallway. Standing in the doorframe, however, was not Albert Black, but Farrah Carden, Regulus' girlfriend.

She slid into the room and shut the door. Her black, satin dress was short, revealing every curve on her slim body. A pin held up her long, wavy blonde hair but it was slowly slipping out with every drunken step.

"I thought I smelled that," she said, pointing to the wrap in Sirius' hand.

"Yeah, well... I'm sure Regulus has some," he said harshly. Presently, he didn't feel up to company, especially not from that of a Slytherin.

Farrah ignored his obvious dismissal with a wave of her hand. "You made quite the scene out there, didn't you?" She kicked off her black sandals and put a hand on her hip.

"Sure, make yourself at home," he mumbled. Sirius blew out a cloud of smoke before responding to her question. "Is my mum still apologizing?"

Picking up a stray bottle of firewhiskey, she tipped it back and took a long swig. Sirius was impressed at how nonchalantly Farrah addressed him. True, she was probably just as intoxicated as he was, but nonetheless, she was treating him as if nothing had transpired downstairs. "Not one of them will remember it tomorrow."

He shrugged, trying to seem like he could care less

"Is that pure coca?" she said suddenly.

Sirius shook his head, "It's my own invention."

"Can I try it?"

He shook his head again.

This was apparently not the answer she wanted because instead of turning back toward the door, she crossed the room and climbed onto the edge of the bed. Her expression was seductive, like she had a secret agenda. She was a cat, stalking its prey. Somehow, her blatant disregard for his wishes made her more likeable; it was almost sexy. She slithered toward him and sat firmly on his hips. Farrah's black dress was now barely covering her thighs; the top of her dress had shifted downward about three inches, giving Sirius a clear view of her chest.

In a futile attempt to suppress a hormonal moan, he took another long drag from his freshly wrapped joint.

Farrah seemed to have been waiting for this moment. She grabbed his loose tie and pulled his upper body aggressively toward her, meeting him firmly at the lips. Instead of softening her lips upon impact, she opened her mouth and shotgunned as he exhaled. Sirius pulled back and watched as she held her breath for a second, then let out a long string of smoke.

Despite the situation, he found himself becoming severely excited. He chanced another look down at her partially exposed chest. Throwing caution to the wind, he yanked her face toward his, holding his wrap out at a safe distance. He felt her lips crush against his once again, this time allowing himself to kiss back. Farrah tasted strongly of alcohol and herbs and as he deepened the kiss, he found her tongue to be hot and inviting.

She pulled back and took another long swig out of the bottle of firewhiskey.

Sirius exhaled and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. For a second he wondered if perhaps he should just go to sleep and forget the girl sitting... firmly on top of him. His brain was floating in a sea of alcohol and his stomach felt like it was going to explode. But, as Farrah returned her attention to yanking his tie over his head, all thoughts were dismissed. She tried to unbutton his dress shirt but couldn't get her fingers to cooperate, so she proceeded to rip the front open in a violent fashion.

Sirius decided this was extremely arousing, a beautiful woman just tore open his shirt and was now massaging his chest with her tiny hands... how often does that happen? Farrah tugged his shirt over his shoulders and he shrugged it off as she sucked on his lower lip. At this point, he crushed the remainder of his blunt down on the bedside table.

Alarms were now going off in his head, but he chose to ignore them. He was too far gone; past the point of forcing his body to stop. Sirius' hands wandered to her thighs and he squeezed them as she bit down on the side of his neck. He groaned and rubbed his hands upward, grabbing hold of the bottom of her dress. She ground her pelvis into his and dug her nails into the skin of his back. Sirius sucked in a breath as she broke through his skin. He felt aggressive, almost animalistic. The clip holding her hair up dislodged and the silky blonde waves fell softly onto her shoulders.

His brain wasn't working now; all he could think was that he _needed_ to eliminate anything separating their two bodies. As he was yanking the fabric of Farrah's dress over her head, one last, pleading voice tried to thwart his efforts. But as Sirius lifted Farrah into the air and slammed her down underneath him, that last, weak voice was nothing more than a passing thought.

O-o-o-o

A while later, Sirius woke up in a pool of sweat. His back stung and the whole room was spinning. He rolled over with lightning speed and vomited over the side of the bed into the waiting bin. There was caked blood on the sheets from gashes on his back and sitting up made Sirius feel more nauseous. He managed to stumble out of bed and pull on a pair of red and gold pajamas bottoms. Racking his brain, he tried to remember exactly _why_ he was completely naked and sick as a dog.

Coming up with nothing, he turned back toward his bed and groaned at the sight in front of him. "Bloody _hell_!"

Farrah Carden was pulling her tight, black dress back over her head at the other end of his large bed. She turned and shot him an annoyed expression. "Don't 'bloody hell' me, Sirius Black! I'm not the one who passed out cold over a little alcohol."

"GET OUT!" he bellowed. Sirius didn't care how she left, just as long as she was gone within the next few seconds. His brain wasn't ready to comprehend what he'd done. James' face flashed momentarily through his head; what would his best friend say if he could see Sirius now? Maybe he'd wonder why the sorting hat had placed him in Gryffindor if he was going to act like a disgusting Slytherin.

_That's what I am... bloody sickening._ He only just made it to the bin this time.

Suddenly, the air in the room grew cold.

Sirius started to sweat as the knob on the bedroom door turned slowly. Once again, the room was filled with a soft, yellow glow from the hallway light.

Albert Black stood in the doorframe, holding a wine glass in his hand, shooting daggers out of his eyes at Sirius.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!" he screamed. "There's a sodding party going on downstairs, boy! You needn't ruin it by making NOISE!" His eyes quickly traveled to the other person inside the dark room. Realization flashed across his face.

"Dad..." Sirius didn't have a moment to finish the thought.

"Shagging your brother's girlfriend are you?" He stepped further into the bedroom and held the door open for Farrah to scamper through. The door slammed behind her retreating, disheveled form.

"Tell Regulus _anything _and I'll go back downstairs and proudly announce that I'm becoming an Auror." Sirius was feeling lucky that his father was massively sloshed. This meant that whatever blows he dealt would be klutzy and less painful. Still though, he hoped that his herbal mixture was strong enough to make the whole process less hurtful.

Closing his eyes, he felt the air shift as his father stumbled toward him, one fist raised, the other firmly gripping the wine glass. Sirius braced himself for the worst.

* * *

The next morning, Sirius awoke slowly. For a minute, he wasn't sure where he was. His entire body felt like one big bruise. He laid still on his back for a beat and tried to remember the events of the night before.

His mother had dismissed him from their annual summer celebration because of his toast–he'd come upstairs to wait for his father... Sirius glanced to the right and saw the empty firewhiskey bottle and wrap butt. That's when it hit him–Farrah. He covered his eyes with a hand and groaned. _Why couldn't I have exercised some self control! She's my brother's sodding girlfriend!_ He decided he must have passed out soon afterward because the next thing he could recall was his father entering and attempting to make him sorry for embarrassing the family with his speech.

The first thing he noticed upon lifting his body off the mattress was that his left arm felt broken. He sighed, he'd have to wait a week and have Madame Pomfrey fix it, there was no way he was going to admit to any family member that he was in pain.

Ripping at one of his sheets, he fastened himself a makeshift sling. Looking into the mirror, he received his first shock; his eyes were bloodshot, a large bruise rested underneath his right eye, his bottom lip was fat and crusted with dried blood, and covering his neck were dark red blotches. And that damage was just from the shoulders up. A few minutes later, he was trying to yank a t-shirt over his head with one hand when he felt a deep, stinging sensation.

Crossing again to the full length mirror, he turned to find eight thick, superficial lacerations crisscrossing down his back; fingernail marks. Most had scabbed over, but a few still had fine strings of blood trickling down the length of his back. A large, purple bruise was taking form near his collarbone, and there was a deep gash protruding down from it. He vaguely remembered his father hitting him with a wine glass. The cut meant that it probably broke on impact. All in all, he was in pretty bad shape.

Sirius glanced at the clock, it was nearly eleven; he was supposed to have been at the Potter's house an hour ago. A quick glance at the fireplace confirmed his worst fears–it was locked, meaning he couldn't leave. They had probably locked up all the family owls too. Deciding to save the pain of a shower for later, he ventured downstairs to see if anyone else was awake.

The house was fairly clean, although Kreacher had yet to get to the dishes, there were piles and piles stacked near the sink. The coffee pot was filled and a plate of cold toast sat on the kitchen table, so Sirius was sure that the house elf was awake and roaming around somewhere.

"You look like shit," came the voice of Regulus from behind him. The younger man was leaning against the staircase with a malicious smile plastered on his face.

"Wipe that sodding grin off your face or you'll be looking loads worse than me," Sirius chided back. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his sibling... actually, he was _never_ in the mood to deal with Regulus.

"Maybe if you'd just follow orders once in awhile instead of trying to start a rebellion, you wouldn't get hit," then, after a pause, he added, "It's your own fault, you know."

Sirius's eyes flashed at this comment, "You'll be singing a different song when Dumbledore kills Voldemort and the Aurors are hauling you off to Azkaban without a trial."

Regulus just smirked at him and turned toward the stairs. Halfway up, he poked his head back around and said, "I'm not the one beaten to a bloody pulp, remember."

"Wanker," Sirius mumbled as he watched his younger brother disappear. He checked around the remaining rooms and seeing nobody else awake, grabbed a piece of toast and slipped out the front door to sit in the tiny yard.

The sight may have looked odd to the passing Muggle, a beat up sixteen-year-old, sitting in the middle of an empty lot eating breakfast, dressed only in a pair of pajama pants. Luckily, the only person on the street was a chubby old man power-walking with his pet Shih-Tsu.

An hour later, he was finally considering going back inside when a crashing sound brought his attention back to the street. A huge, purple, three-story bus came to a screeching halt in front of the curb, narrowly missing the power-walker, now on his way home (he didn't even look up). It was odd to see the Knight Bus parked in front of his house, his family normally didn't have visitors. This brought up his next question; who _was_ taking the bus to No. 12 Grimmauld Place?

His question was answered shortly thereafter as Peter Pettrigrew, Remus Lupin, and James Potter stepped unsteadily out the door (Peter looked extremely happy to have both feet on the ground). James was the first to catch sight of Sirius sitting in the middle of the lawn.

"Hey, you never told me you lived in an empty lot, Siri–_bloody hell!_" he exclaimed as he plunged forward.

Remus, walking behind him, gasped in horror at the sight of his friend.

Sirius hadn't thought he looked _that_ bad. He had, after all, looked much worse after an incident with the whomping willow the previous year. Feeling a sudden urge to avoid a scene outside in broad daylight, in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood, he whipped out his wand and motioned for the three boys to follow him through the charmed yard and into the house. They gaped after him into the main hallway, up the stairs, past the mounted house-elf heads, and only spoke when Sirius' bedroom door was firmly closed.

"What happened!" demanded James, looking his best friend up and down with an expression of utter horror.

Sirius thought quickly, he wished he would have taken the time to find his mother's concealer potion. In his defense, he hadn't planned on seeing the Marauders, or anyone else outside the house, that day.

"It's nothing," he lied, "I had an accident on my broom."

James and Peter nodded but Remus stared him down.

"You're lying," he said softly. After a beat, he added, "I can smell them all over you."

_Damn Moony and his werewolf senses._

Sirius glared at him. He had forgotten it was almost that time of the month. Remus's five senses were always heightened around the full moon.

"My parents had their annual end-of-the-summer holiday party last night. You're probably smelling all my relatives," he tried.

But Remus was not backing down; he looked worried. He took a step forward and breathed in deeply.

Sirius felt himself recoil under his stare.

There was only a foot of space between Remus and Sirius now. Remus opened his eyes and shuddered. "How... how many times did he... hit you?" He reached out a hand and touched the bruise on Sirius' shoulder tentatively.

"Oh Merlin... how long has this been going on?" James asked hoarsely.

Peter, for his part hadn't said a word yet. He just stood there and eyed the bruises covering Sirius's body warily.

"Look," Sirius said, raking a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, "Just shut up about it–you don't understand my parents. I shouldn't have provoked them. I was supposed to give a speech last night... Tojours pur and all that rot; but I mucked it up. Don't worry about it."

"What the hell are you _on_ about, Padfoot?" Peter asked, sounding alarmingly angry.

"Peter," Remus scolded, holding a hand out to try and settle him down. He turned slowly back to Sirius, who briskly walked around his bed to try and find a shirt; he blatantly ignored their piercing glares.

"Sirius..." Remus continued, "what do you mean you _provoked_ them?" His features softened as he spoke.

Sirius pulled his button-up, blood-stained, dress shirt off the floor and dropped it like a scorching hot tea kettle, shuddering. "Like I said... I made a sodding awful speech in front of half the pure-blooded community saying something about every wizard in the room not being able to hold a candle to some of my Muggle-born friends. My mum was less than pleased."

James audibly gulped. He obviously didn't know what to make of Sirius's nonchalant behavior. "So your dad..."

Sirius nodded. His body had started to shake under the pressure and he could feel himself weakening every time one of his friends spoke. Being abused was such a regular event in his life; he wasn't used to people getting upset over it. He felt ashamed. "Look, just forget it, alright? It's no big deal; I've been dealing with this since I was sorted into Gryffindor."

"Why didn't you ever _tell_ me?" James suddenly shouted, advancing toward him. "I'm supposed to be your sodding best mate! This has been going on the WHOLE TIME I'VE KNOWN YOU?"

Sirius flinched and stiffened. Before James could continue his rant, Sirius clamped a hand over his mouth, "Shush, will you? If they wake up and find the lot of you're here, it'll be much worse."

James fell silent but still fixed his friend with a stony expression.

"What did he hit you with?" Remus asked.

Sirius was beginning to lose his temper, "What, you want me to relive the whole #&ing thing so you can have a pity party?" He stepped over to the broken wine glass lying on the floor. Picking it up, he slammed it down onto the table in front of his three friends; droplets of leftover wine flew everywhere.

Peter, who was closest, jumped at the noise.

"He hit me with the closest object and then broke my arm with his foot." Sirius was in a blind rage now. He picked up his nearby copy of _Advanced Transfiguration_ and hurled it across the room, disregarding his warnings of waking up the entire house. "THEN, the bloody bastard threw me into a chair," he kicked the splintered shards of wood violently, "And went back downstairs where he and his friends probably had a good old laugh about the whole thing. But you know WHAT!" he asked with his fists clenched, panting and glaring at his three friends.

They looked afraid to ask.

"I was too bloody SLOSHED to really _feel_ any of it. In fact, until I woke up this morning, I didn't _feel_ anything at all!" He felt the tears coming now. Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. His knees shook and he felt himself sinking to the ground. James moved forward and caught him, letting Sirius bury his head in his chest. Sirius couldn't stop his tears now. James had his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and his whole body convulsed with rage and hurt.

"It's not your fault," James whispered as he held his best friend's shaking form.

It took a good ten minutes to regain control. When Sirius finally looked back up, Peter and Remus had managed to shove all his clothes and books into his Hogwarts trunk. Sirius looked at them with a curious expression. He wiped at his puffy eyes, "Err... school doesn't start for another week, guys," he stated bluntly.

"Well, you aren't staying here," Remus said as he locked the trunk and pulled it into an upright position.

"Moony, I can't just leave."

"You're coming to my house," James said as-a-matter-of-factly. "My mum and dad will love it... and... we can get your arm fixed up too."

Sirius nodded. He couldn't find the words to thank his best friends. Running away had never sounded like a good option until now. He had always accepted his family for the assholes they were. The thought of leaving to live with James made his heart sore to new heights. For the first time in the past three months, he felt excited.

The boys gathered the rest of his possessions as Sirius pulled on a pair of jeans and his 'my other ride is a Nimbus' t-shirt (James had once charmed it to say 'Peter's mum' instead of 'Nimbus,' thoroughly pissing off Wormtail). Once they had everything together, the four quietly opened the bedroom door.

Remus tapped James on the shoulder softly, "Why don't you and Pete summon the Knight Bus. I need to talk to Sirius for a minute."

James gave him an odd expression before nodding and motioning Peter to help him get the trunk down the steep stairs. When they disappeared safely around the corner, Remus shut the door again and turned toward Sirius.

"So, tell me what happened," he said, without so much as flinching.

Sirius shot him an odd look, "What do you mean? I told you everything..."

"That isn't what I mean... you know I can smell her."

Sirius's eyes must have flashed an understanding because Remus folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the closed door.

Sirius hung his head and yanked a hand through his hair. "Nothing... it was just a girl at their stupid party. She just shared my firewhiskey is all." He felt bad trying to lie to Remus, who was always completely understanding and nonjudgmental, but he didn't feel ready to divulge any information about the events that had transpired the night before.

Remus, for his part, rolled his eyes. "You have scratch marks on your back and I highly doubt the bite marks all over your neck are from your father. I understand if you don't want to talk about it but don't treat me like I don't understand."

"Sorry," Sirius mumbled. He leaned against the round table and waited for Remus to continue.

Remus sighed, he reached out and clasped his friend's shoulder. "Was it your first time?"

Sirius stared into Remus's amber eyes for a minute and nodded. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "Please... don't tell James or Peter. I–I'd like to keep it to myself for now, if it's alright."

Remus shot him an understanding smile. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it... I'm here," he seemed to think for a second before adding, "You know, I would have thought you'd be gloating about it. Sometimes you surprise me, Padfoot."

Sirius pulled open the bedroom door. "Trust me... what happened... it's nothing to feel proud about. I–thanks for not outing me in front of everyone, Moony." He sighed once more and continued through the door and down the hallway, Remus at his heels.

* * *

Mrs. Potter had an absolute fit when she saw the condition Sirius was in. She had always regarded him as a second son and when he showed up bloodied and bruised, James had to practically hold her back from marching over to the Black's house herself.

Sirius refused to go to St. Mungo's, saying his parents would kill him if he revealed the family secret. When Mr. Potter returned home later that evening, he did the best he could to fix the broken arm, but said that Sirius should still get it looked at when he arrived back at school.

James did everything he could to make his friend feel at home, even set up the guest bedroom and spellotaped Quidditch posters all over the walls. He expected Sirius to be depressed over the events that transpired, but instead found that he was the happiest he'd been in a long time.

This carefree attitude couldn't last forever. A week after moving in with the Potter's, the two Gryffindor boys packed their trunks and headed to Kings Cross Station. James could tell Sirius was excited to finally be going back to Hogwarts, but at the same time, he seemed a bit wary of seeing his relatives, and rightly so. The only member of the Black family that Sirius could stand, Andromeda Black (Tonks, now), finished her seventh year before the boys entered their first. This meant that Hogwarts was still home to Bellatrix (in her 7th Year) and Regulus (5th). James didn't doubt for a second that the pair would give Sirius a hard time sometime in the near future.

The only thing worth mentioning that happened on the Hogwart's Express was that Peter managed to hit Severus Snape with a fairly well placed Giggling Hex (James was pretty certain it was an accident, and that Pete had been trying to nail a Hufflepuff 2ndt year across the hall, but beggars can't be choosers, yeah?). It was amusing to watch Snape try to retaliate while laughing hysterically; quite out of character for the greasy Slytherin. James could have sworn he heard him giggle his name in a very venomous way as he stalked out of sight.

Remus left a while later to do rounds with Lily Evans, the other Gryffindor prefect (James told him to tell her 'hello' from him, to which Remus just rolled his eyes), and for the remainder of the trip, Sirius, Peter, and James played Exploding Snap.

It was during the welcoming feast that Bellatrix and Regulus first made their move. The Marauder's (minus Remus, who had retired early because his werewolf transformation had been the day before) were discussing plans for the first prank of the year when the two Slytherins approached.

"You make me SICK, Sirius!" Regulus announced suddenly. His fists were balled and his face beat red.

Sirius, for his part, did his best not to look put-out, "Goes both ways, Regulus."

Bellatrix folded her arms across her chest and stared at her cousin, "Don't expect your mother to welcome you back at Christmas... _please!_ You ran away from home and paraded your inadequacies for the entire wizarding world to see," she sneered savagely.

James stood up and pointed his wand directly at her chest, "It's YOUR FAMILY that's disgusting... stay away from him or I'll..."

"James..." Sirius said, tugging his robes so he sat back down. "It's alright... just—just don't."

Most of the Gryffindor table were watching the scene, now. They probably thought they were going to see the first duel of the year. As James sat back down, he was grateful that Sirius had enough sense to stop him. He really didn't want to set a record as the first person to get a detention before classes even began.

Lily Evans was eyeing them suspiciously and flashing her prefect badge near the end of the table, but James ignored her.

"Come on Bellatrix... don't worry about him," Regulus stated, still eyeing James wand warily, "He's not even a Black anymore."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Blasted me off the family tapestry, has she?" He sighed loudly and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye, "Andromeda will be so proud!"

Bellatrix made a low, growling noise as she and Regulus stalked from the Gryffindor table without looking back.

After everyone was finished eating, Dumbledore made his usual announcements; Fifth Years were allowed to visit Hogsmeade, the Forbidden Forest was thus, _forbidden_, and Filch updated his list of activities that aren't allowed at school. The Marauders were especially proud that they had forced the list to come to 78 items. Among them, the newest additions, students were not allowed to sing, _Filch is gay, Filch tickled my pickle,_ or _Mrs. Norris is a failed Animagus _(also, he added, that you could not charm the coats of armor to sing these either).

The next two months flew past in a blur of Quidditch, homework, and pranks for the four Gryffindor boys. Remus glanced haphazardly around the Charms classroom on October 26 and noticed Peter, James, and Sirius looked as ragged as himself. The full moon had been the night before and for the first time, the four friends had dared to venture outside of the Shrieking Shack. Remus was still wary of the idea of betraying Dumbledore's trust, but was easily persuaded to join them in a romp through the forbidden forest. James had been right, nothing bad had happened.

Normally, Remus wasn't able to return to classes until a few days after his transformation. But having his friends around him while he was in werewolf form enabled him to maintain a sense of self. Remus spent the nights running through the forest, playing games, and communicating with the others instead of tearing at his own flesh.

He took the end of his quill and prodded Peter, who had been drooling on his _Advanced Charms_ book for the second time in ten minutes. In front of them, sat James and Sirius. They were at least _pretending_ to be awake, although once in a while, Sirius' head would drop forward and then snap back up with impeccable speed.

Remus hoped they would be back in tip top condition for Saturday's first Hogsmeade weekend.

Lily, who sat across from James and Sirius, kept rolling her eyes and huffing. Charms was her absolute favorite class, she hated it when people didn't pay attention (especially James). After the lesson was over, the four boys were packing their books away when she stormed over to their table, her friend, Emmalyn in tow.

"How is it that you can be so tired when you went to bed early last night, Potter?" she demanded, putting her hand on her hip and balancing her bag on the opposite shoulder.

Remus marveled how someone so petite could be so frightening when angered.

James, however, was unfazed. He just shrugged and scratched his head (he had been _trying_ to refrain from mussing up his hair in her presence), "I didn't realize you were paying such close attention, Evans."

Sirius snorted.

Lily narrowed her eyes, "I'm simply _searching_ for a reason to give you detention."

Next to her, Emmalyn was staring at her feet, a pink tinge settling on her cheeks. Remus looked back at Sirius, who was grinning at her like an idiot. James didn't seem to notice.

"Search away, then," James said, waving a hand through the air indifferently. He walked around her and toward the classroom door. Remus, Peter, and Sirius followed.

"I _know_ you left the dormitory last night... and I'll prove it, you just wait."

James froze.

Peter, his hand resting on the doorframe, turned toward Lily, "Good luck, then."

* * *

_Saturday, October 26: Hogsmeade weekend_

Sirius laced his fingers through Claire Dunway's silky brown hair and stuck his tongue further into her mouth. A tiny moan escaped her as she climbed into his lap. He leaned back against the wall of the broom closet, knocking over a bucket full of sponges. They only had about ten minutes before everyone was supposed to gather at the front doors to go into Hogsmeade.

Claire was in seventh year, and a fellow Gryffindor known to be quick in the classroom and even quicker into bed. For Sirius, though, she was simply a distraction.

Despite the rumors floating about Hogwarts like ghosts, he had only kissed approximately four people... well... five counting the girl in his lap, who currently had her tongue down his throat.

There had been Joanna Windham, a Ravenclaw in the same year as Sirius; his only official girlfriend. Then came Winnie Newman, James' girlfriend for a short time during 5th year (before he realized he was hopelessly in love with Lily Evans), who had pounced on Sirius during breakfast one morning in a vain attempt to piss off her ex-boyfriend (Sirius decided this was probably the point in time where the whole school came to the conclusion that he was a lady's man, as they were _all_ watching the transaction between himself and said girl). After this came Farrah Carden, Regulus' girlfriend; the woman he was desperately trying to forget. In fact, he dwelled on that night almost every day. Numerous times, he had tried to talk to James about it... once he even managed to get the phrase, 'I made a huge mista–,' out before Peter came bounding into the dormitory, waving a new copy of _Quidditch Today_ around and ruining the moment.

How could one drunken accident make him feel so terrible? It wasn't because she was Regulus's girlfriend... in fact, if the situation hadn't been so ridiculous, this point would've perhaps made him proud. Anyway, then, last week he'd had a date with Emmalyn Emerson (Lily's friend) and had kissed her on the lips before they parted ways at the dormitory steps.

He watched Claire smile at him and seductively unzip his trousers. Sirius managed a small smile and leaned his head back against the cold wall.

Moony knew. He briefly thought about talking to Remus about his depressing feelings before a wave of pleasure washed over him and all thoughts were lost.

O-o-o-o-o-o

James checked his watch for the fifteenth time, "He said he was going, right?"

"Of course he's going. Sirius wouldn't give up a Hogsmeade visit... besides, I think he said he was out of dungbombs," Peter noted.

"There's a crisis," Remus snorted. He pretended to be bitter about his friend's lust for trouble making. Once and a while, he'd somewhat attempt to thwart their plans in order to save face as a Gryffindor prefect. Normally, the other three boys would just give him dirty looks and request that he be the lookout while they plotted stinksap in the corridor. _Oh well._

Five minutes and ten pesky moans from Peter (We really _should_ be heading off, you know) later, Sirius came hurtling around the corner toward the castle door at top speed, looking slightly disheveled and out of breath.

"_Sorry_," he panted. "Lost–lost track of time."

"Doing _what_ exactly?" James asked, arching his eyebrow suspiciously. Usually, his best friend was the first out the door, and if he wasn't, you could tempt him with food or butterbeer to get his arse in gear.

Sirius ran a hand through his eye-length black hair and gave a half-smile. "Err..."

Peter shifted his weight with an exasperated expression.

Remus stared at Sirius with narrowed eyes.

James shrugged, "I'll take that as a '_I can't think of a good enough lie at the moment, but if you ask me again later, I'll break down like a baby and confess_,' sound, Padfoot." He grinned at Sirius and turned on his heel toward the double doors of the castle.

"Right then, so we're off," Peter added, following James into the brisk October air.

The four boys managed to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, Zonkos, and Honeydukes during the first hour. Sirius planted exploding frog spawn in an unsuspecting Hufflepuff girl's hood, much to the amusement of his friends (except perhaps Remus, who glared at him). They had a relatively leisurely day until running into Bellatrix, Snivellus, and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Look, it's my ridiculous castaway cousin and his pathetic posse!" she jeered menacingly. Her long black hair was blowing wildly in the wind and she pulled out her wand and waved it around in a threatening manner.

"Good to know you can alliterate," James mocked, rolling his eyes harshly.

"Careful, James... I doubt she'll be able to follow you if you use big words," Sirius chided back, laughing along with his best friend.

Bellatrix's eyes flashed and next to her, Snape raised his wand toward Sirius.

Before Snape could even utter a word against him though, Sirius had put him in a full body bind.

That was when Remus stepped in, "Break it up, all of you! I'm taking points if I see another spell thrown... and for _heavens_ sake, Padfoot... would you take it off him?"

Sirius did as he was told, but couldn't help noticing that Remus' eyes were dancing with laughter, even as he scolded him and James. Snape shot one more threatening look their way before turning back toward his friends and making loud conversation about 'filthy mudbloods' and 'runaway family members.'

"Guys... watch this!" Sirius sniggered, frolicking off in the opposite direction. Looking back, he added, "Don't worry, Moony... I won't hex them!"

James tried to keep a consistent conversation going with Remus and Peter without glancing over at the Slytherin party too often. After a few minutes, he caught a glimpse of Sirius; instead of being in human form, however, Padfoot was prancing out from behind The Three Broomsticks.

Peter tried to turn a laugh into a cough as the large, black dog meandered over to Bellatrix. None of the Marauders had any idea what he was up to, but they agreed it probably wasn't a good idea, knowing Sirius. Yet, instead of pulling Padfoot back out of sight and giving him a harsh spanking, they looked on curiously.

The dog happily trotted over to Bellatrix, stood next to her for a minute, then, did the most hilarious thing they had _ever_ seen Sirius do. He lifted his leg, without a forewarning glance, and started to urinate on Bellatrix's school cloak.

At first, she didn't even seem to notice the animal at her feet. In fact, she might not have even looked down if Remus, Peter, and James weren't less than fifty feet away, cackling madly. Even Remus had caught the bug; he was clutching his sides and _howling_ with delight. Peter, who for some reason had his wand out, accidently sent bright, red sparks shooting everywhere. A flash of light later, Snape's robes had caught on fire. The situation just kept getting better and better. Snape was trying to stamp out the bottom hem while, at the same time, shooting water at himself with the end of his wand; Bellatrix was cursing at Padfoot and trying to kick him away.

James didn't think he'd be able to breathe for some time. It didn't help that Sirius seemed to have been waiting for days to use the restroom. He just kept going and going, and the Marauder's kept laughing harder and harder.

When he thought about it later, James realized that watching his best friend pee on a family member could be construed as quite disturbing.

Enter: Bellatrix screaming... a lot. If she hadn't been so mortified, James swore she would've chased them back to the castle.

The next month was spent avidly trying to avoid hexes from every Slytherin they passed. Bellatrix, even having no proof whatsoever, knew Sirius had _something_ to do with the dog attack. She seemed to convince all her cronies of such, anyway, and he was spending more time defending himself in the hallways of Hogwarts than actually being the one pranking people.

_Oh well,_ Sirius thought, _it was worth it to see her face._ He had counted on her eventually catching up to him and getting a good curse in; what he hadn't counted on, though, was everything falling apart so suddenly.

* * *

It all started in November; _November 24,_ to be exact...

It was around 8:00p.m., and James, Sirius, and Peter were in the Gryffindor Common Room, impatiently waiting for the full moon to rise. Peter was finishing up his Charms Essay (the downside of Glamour Charms), and James and Sirius were playing a rousing game of 'Break the Lamp.'

To the everyday Muggle, this game would sound simple. The only objective was to break the antique, lion-shaped lamp sitting on an end table near the window. Except, nothing at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could be defined as simple. The problem with their game was that there were a number of spells placed on every object in the common room to prevent accidents. When Sirius had invented 'Break the Lamp', he had said that luckily, they weren't attempting to _have_ an accident; this was to be a purposeful destruction of school property.

"Would it count if I just transfigured it to _look_ broken?" James asked, eyeing the lamp curiously.

Sirius shook his head, "No... it wouldn't _really_ be broken, then, would it?" He pointed his wand at the offending object and blew it off the table. The lamp flew into the air and landed with a loud THUD against the opposite wall. It still didn't break.

James crossed the room and stuck it back on the table. "Didn't Peter accidently break it once?" he asked, "We could ask him how he did it."

"He broke the light bulb with his head."

"Second year," Peter piped up over his Charms book.

James raised his eyebrows.

"He was walking on the back of the couch and tripped..."

"That's rubbish! You pushed me!" Peter shouted indignantly at Sirius.

"And the lamp fell on his head an knocked him unconscious," Sirius continued, waving his hand at Peter's interruption.

There were still quite a few people milling around the common room. Most were working diligently on their homework, a few were playing chess, and some were watching James and Sirius with interest. Usually, their exploits could be good for a laugh.

James narrowed his eyes at the lion shaped lamp. The trick was, you had to be smarter than the inanimate object. He transfigured one of Peter's quills into an dart, Wingardium Levioso'ed it, and sent it shooting toward the target. For a second, it looked like his plan had worked; the arrow stuck securely into the side of the lamp. Then, without warning, it was blown back out again, Sirius and James just managed to duck out of the way before the pointed end of it came spinning toward their heads.

"How many charms do you think good 'ole Godric Gryffindor put _on_ this stuff?" Sirius asked, raking a hand through his hair and glancing back where James' dart had stuck menacingly into the wall.

"I highly doubt that lamp has been around over a thousand years," spat Lily Evans, as she descended the stairs. "And, five points from each of you for destruction of property."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"If I may point out, we haven't _actually_ broken anything yet... right now, you just have us on intent," challenged James.

Lily narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, "_Fine_," she snapped, "Five points from each of you for maliciously _intending_ to damage school property." She wasn't backing down. Lily cared more about rules than she did about Gryffindor winning the House Cup at the end of the year.

"That's better," Sirius snorted.

A few people standing around them sniggered lightly.

"Maybe it's time we had McGonagall write a letter to your parents about your behavior," Lily continued, still staring intently at James.

"Perfect, I'm sure she still has a copy of the last one... what did it say again...?" James asked, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Educational disturbance, I believe," Sirius added helpfully.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"OUCH!"

"James, shove it, would you! Do you want to wake the bloody dead?"

"Wormtail just stepped on my foot!"

"Shhhh!" Sirius said, poking James in the rib cage, being careful not to push him out from under the invisibility cloak.

"Well, your _feet_ are about the same size as Sirius' ego, and to tell you the truth, I'm quite surprised this invisibility cloak can fit either underneath," Peter announced gruffly.

James poked him in the ribs in retaliation.

"We should really invest in another cloak... this is getting ridiculous," Sirius agreed quietly.

"It'd be fine if _you'd _just quit growing!" James remarked sourly. Sirius had always been at least two inches taller, to James' dismay. He'd even tried to force feed Padfoot coffee for five years and it _still_ hadn't stunted his growth. Now, the three boys were hunched underneath the cloak, bumping into one another and stepping (literally _and_ figuratively) on each other's toes.

"Alright, Wormtail... it's your time to shine," Sirius said. The area under their invisible tent increased as Peter changed into his animagus form in order to prod the knob under the Whomping Willow.

After the tree had frozen, James balled the cloak, shoved it into his pocket, and changed into his own stag form. Sirius followed suit. The three animals gathered around the tree and Padfoot gave two, short barks.

The night was dark except for the giant, glowing full moon hanging unsupported in the black sky. A few stars poked through the clouds, and though the wind was nippy, the three animals were warm under thick layers of fur.

They stood around the tree and waited; not for long, however, as a return bark was heard from somewhere beneath the large tree. Soon after, a lone, gray werewolf pulled himself head first out from the hole at the base. The other animals hopped around happily at their friend's appearance.

Remus had still not allowed them to witness his transformations. He said it was hard enough dealing with them himself, he didn't want the others to worry about it either. It was painful, that much Sirius knew. One day, they _would_ convince Moony to let them join him... until then, they were content meeting outside the willow tree.

Padfoot barked and wagged his tail happily. Moony gave them all a fierce look and began sprinting toward the Forbidden Forest, the rest in tow. Wormtail usually had a difficult job keeping up, his short legs weren't made for running at top speed. Either James would let him sit in his antlers, or Sirius would hold him in his mouth by the tail. Peter preferred the former.

The boys spent a good hour tramping around after a few wild wart hogs (_why_ exactly Hagrid had them... they weren't sure) and playing a rousing game of bite-tag (Moony had invented this by default when trying to attack Padfoot).

It was probably around midnight when James stopped dead in his tracks, Sirius right behind him, with Wormtail in his mouth. Padfoot nudged Prongs in question, but the stag stayed dead still.

That's when Sirius heard the voices; quiet at first, but definitely voices of people inside the forest. For a brief second, he thought they'd been discovered. He ran to where Moony was crouching and nuzzled him with his snout, willing him to stay put. The last thing they needed was for him to lose his head completely and attack whoever was invading their territory. The four animals snuggled together, side by side, to watch.

There was a group of about a dozen cloaked figures, each holding a lit wand in front of them. They walked in a straight line, staring directly ahead as if they were on a mission.

Padfoot was the first to follow, his curiosity got the best of him. James nipped at his retreating tail, but followed nonetheless. Moony stalked close behind.

After about ten minutes, the group reached a clearing. Bats were flying maniacally around Sirius' stomach, now. This most definitely wasn't a meeting to collect butterflies or follow the rainbow to a pot of gold.

The leader rounded everyone up around a small fire pit. Flames shot out of his wand and the logs abruptly caught fire and crackled with intensity. Then, someone else raised their wand and shouted, "Morsmordre!"

The image of a large, green skull now hung monstrously above their heads.

Fear ripped at Sirius' stomach and the bats disappeared, leaving him with a sinking feeling; it was a Dark Arts group. He should have known there was one at Hogwarts, how could there not be? He, and the rest of the Marauders watched them practice dark spells and conjure an image of the Dark Lord from the flames of their fire.

Sirius desperately wanted to talk with his friends about what they were witnessing. Unfortunately, they couldn't just change back into human form; not when there was a werewolf lying beside them. Remus would not attack his animal friends, but the second they changed back, he'd revert to his vicious self. It was probably taking all of his concentration not to lash out against the humans standing ten feet away.

Moony, not used to sitting still, began to shift uncomfortably next to Sirius. He nipped at Wormtail a few times, scaring the rat into moving back toward James. Sirius knew they needed to get the werewolf away from the loud noises and activities as soon as possible.

Looking up, he saw that most of the hooded figures were engaging themselves in mini-duels and not paying attention to their surroundings. Now would be the perfect time to move. Sirius nudged Moony with his nose. The werewolf let out an irritated howl.

The silence is what started the chaos. Every member of the Dark Arts group froze, pointing their wands in separate directions.

Sensing a shift in the air, Moony began to growl. Sirius nipped at his shoulder, begging him to be silent. James, on the other side, bumped him with his antlers. They tried to maneuver the wolf as quietly as possible into the darkness of the forest, but it was too late.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" screamed a hooded figure as bright red sparks flew out of the tip of his wand.

Padfoot and Prongs nudged Moony once more. He howled in protest. Shouts and spells filled the chilly night air. Moony finally took the hint, and spun in the opposite direction, crashing through a few bushes.

A long, blue laser shot past Padfoot's left ear, singeing his fur. A figure in black was inching nearer, avoiding the rapid wand fire. Sirius let out a long growl and heard Moony howl in desperation nearby.

"Black, do you see anything?" yelled a voice in the distance.

Sirius didn't care which family member was under the hood, he wanted to get out of the forest as fast as possible. He let out one last vicious growl and the figure began backing up.

Just when Sirius thought they would be able to start moving, the retreating form spun around and shot something long and glowing out of his wand.

Padfoot made to follow Moony through the trees, but was stopped by a deafening whimper. He turned, and saw that James had been hit with a bright red arrow. The stag stumbled and crashed to the forest floor.

Sirius panicked. He was at James' side in less than a second. Prongs looked up with watery eyes. The arrow had imbedded deep into his upper leg. The laceration hadn't began bleeding yet, but once the spell faded and the arrow disappeared, Sirius had no doubt it would.

Wormtail was squeaking with despair and running around in mad circles. Twenty feet away, Moony was standing, stock still, watching the three animals with interest.

The group of cloaked figures had vanished, probably running in fear of being caught by a teacher. If they'd known one of their spells had actually hit someone, they didn't care.

Prongs weakly pulled himself to his feet. His leg would barely support any weight.

Sirius looked into James' eyes and knew what he had to do; he and Wormtail needed to get Remus back to the Whomping Willow; and, they had to do it fast. The sooner Moony was safely tucked away, the sooner they could get James to the hospital wing.

Sirius picked Peter up by his tail and ran. His muscles worked hard as he raced Remus back to the tree. Remus must have sensed the urgency, because he didn't put up a fight as they motioned to him to crawl back into the hole under the tree. He gave Sirius a worried look, and disappeared from sight.

He and Peter morphed back into human form.

"Pete, I'm going to get James. You go find Madame Pomfrey and whatever Professor is still awake... I'll try to get him back to the castle."

Peter nodded weakly and took off running.

Sirius didn't have a chance to think of the implications of turning James over to the hospital wing. Yes, there was the possibility of numerous detentions, or worse, expulsion. But, right now, James' life hung on the line. Nobody would ever know Remus had somehow been involved, Sirius was sure of that. He was also sure that James would cook up a clever story to cover up their adventure. Hopefully, Peter wouldn't divulge too much information before they had a chance to straighten out their stories. Then again, Sirius had to give Pete credit, he _could_ be a sneaky little rat sometimes.

It only took five minutes for Sirius to return to James, now also back in human form. The arrow had vanished completely, and James was clutching his arm in agony as blood spilled down and soaked the forest floor. His face was white and covered with sweat.

Sirius yanked off his own button-down shirt and ripped a long strip off the bottom. Using it as a bandage, he tied it securely around the gaping wound, trying hard not to look at the torn muscle and loose skin amongst the blood.

James moaned, "What spell was that? I've never seen anything like it."

"A dark arts spell, most likely," Sirius answered darkly. The amount of blood that had soaked through James' shirt was offering little relief.

"Can you walk?"

James nodded.

Sirius pulled his friend's good arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around James' waist. He felt like he was hoisting up a 130 lb rag doll. They continued walking in that manner for five minutes, until they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. James had been growing increasingly weaker during the journey and finally lost his footing.

Sirius didn't let him fall all the way to the ground, however. For his age, Sirius was fairly well built, with strong arms to boot. He picked up James' limp form (thank goodness his friend was a true bean pole) and stumbled slowly past the Whomping Willow and through the thick grass leading up to the castle.

After a few more minutes, his arms went numb from the weight. As he collapsed on the front steps of the castle, James still in his arms, he heard the giant doors open and the voices of Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall filled him with relief.

Sirius slowly lost consciousness, still clinging to his best friend.

* * *

James blinked his eyes a few times, letting them adjust to the hospital wing lights. Sirius was slumped in a chair at the foot of his bed, and Peter and McGonagall were discussing something around the corner.

Looking down, he saw that his arm was bandaged and bound tightly in a sling.

"Padfoot?" James croaked.

Sirius' head shot up. "You're awake."

James cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I was bludgeoned with a 60lb broomstick."

Professor McGonagall, dressed in long black robes, yanked the curtains back and gave the two Gryffindors a tight smile. "Good, you're up. Mr. Pettigrew told me the whole story."

James and Sirius shot desperate looks at Wormtail, who was standing expressionless behind McGonagall.

"Erm–he did?" Sirius grabbed the arms of his chair like he was bracing himself for war.

James panicked, "Well, we–I mean, it was an accide–."

McGonagall held up her hand, "Enough, Mr. Potter. While, I understand you were trying to do the school a service by following that group, it was unwise to proceed into the forest by yourselves. Next time, I expect you'll find a teacher instead. Don't be so naive to think you could have taken on twenty-five people by yourselves."

James dropped his jaw. _Peter_ came up with that lie? He felt decidedly impressed.

"We–we definitely won't, Professor," Peter said mechanically.

Madame Pomfrey bustled past the group, holding a bottle of Skelefix. "Well," she said sharply, "_I'm_ just glad nobody was killed. I can mend bones easily, but bringing back someone from the dead is a tad more difficult."

McGonagall crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, "Now, the three of you will be serving a detention with Hagrid _and_ I'm taking twenty points from each of you for breaking curfew."

"Professor! What about the group we were following!" argued Sirius.

"Don't worry, Mr. Black. In time, we'll figure out who they were. Nobody can hide a secret in _this_ school forever."

Sirius sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair.

James let Madame Pomfrey spoon a small amount of thick, purple Skelefix into his mouth. It tasted like lead.

"You'll sleep here tonight. You may go to your classes tomorrow, but I expect you to take it easy. Jostle that arm and you'll be back here before you can say 'Quaffle'. You have to give the bone twenty-four hours to heal," she warned, eyeing James.

He nodded.

"And no Quidditch until the end of the week!" she finished, adding to James' pain.

He groaned.

Professor McGonagall patted Peter on the shoulder and turned around.

"Minerva! One second, we have..." Madame Pomfrey looked at the three boys warily, "A situation, if you will."

McGonagall turned toward the Healer and her expression hardened. "What is it, Poppy?"

Madame Pomfrey grabbed the edge of James' curtain and tilted her head toward a bed opposite his.

James craned his neck to get a good glimpse of the person lying across the room. A blonde girl with bright blue eyes was sitting up, holding her knees into her chest. A tear was running slowly down the side of her cheek. James thought he recognized her as a 5th Year Slytherin student, though he couldn't remember her name.

Madame Pomfrey brought his thoughts back into the room. "It's... quite serious." She yanked the curtains closed. James heard her whisper, "I think we need to get the Headmaster."

James glanced over at Sirius, about to ask what the girl could be sick with. But Sirius was staring wide-eyed at the closed curtains. His face was pale and he was white-knuckling the arms of his chair.

McGonagall stuck her head back in. "Pettigrew, Black... go back to your dorm room. You can come fetch Mr. Potter in the morning."

"Night, Prongs," Peter said.

Sirius was still staring numbly into space, "Night." he mumbled.

"What's up, Sirius? Do you know that girl?" James asked curiously. He'd seen her around, but as far as he knew Sirius hadn't ever talked to her.

"Huh? Oh... no, it's nothing... I think Regulus might be dating her."

"He is," Peter said.

"How d'you know?" James asked.

"I caught them snogging a few weeks ago in a broom closet during my detention with Professor Sprout," Peter answered.

"Looks like your little brother is getting more action than you, Padfoot," teased James.

Sirius' eyes flashed, "Shut it, James," he shot back. After a second, his expression softened a bit. "Sorry. Look, we'll back in the morning, yeah?"

James nodded and watched them disappear around the curtain. Sirius was known for his mood swings, but James had never seen him get angry over a joke. Something must have happened with Regulus to make him so upset. Usually, James and Sirius never kept secrets from one another. Now, James was beginning to wonder if something significant had happened to his friend without him knowing.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey was flipping through a large, dusty book near the medicine cabinet, Professor McGonagall peering over her shoulder with a stony expression. Both their backs were facing Sirius and Peter as they crossed the Hospital wing.

"Hey, Pete..."

Peter looked up at Sirius and frowned.

"I'll meet you upstairs in a few minutes, alright? I need to–I'll just be a second." He didn't wait for Peter to respond before turning around and making his way toward Farrah's bed.

She was curled in a tiny ball at the head of the hospital bed. Her face was damp and flushed and her school robes were pulled down to cover her knees.

Sirius approached her tentatively. "Hi."

She looked up and tried to wipe her eyes dry on her sleeve. "Please... don't."

He sighed, "Look... I know we haven't..." Sirius dragged his fingers through his hair roughly. He really wasn't sure what to say to her, they hadn't spoken in more than three months. "Are you alright? I heard Madame Pomfrey say something serious happened..."

"That sounds about right." She laughed bitterly, then, seeing his confused expression, added, "I reckon you'll find out soon enough."

Sirius watched as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillow. He turned to leave the hospital wing and saw that Professor Dumbledore had joined Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Sirius tried to be as quiet as possible as he snuck toward the door.

"Why didn't she come here sooner?" McGonagall whispered harshly.

"I imagine the past few months have been rather frightening, don't you think, Minerva?" Dumbledore said softly.

Sirius slowed his pace as he reached the double doors.

"Is she dating anyone?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"Regulus Black," Dumbledore answered. "I asked Professor Keisner to fetch him. They're both in his house."

The two women nodded.

Sirius didn't see how Farrah's love life had anything to do with her condition. Fearing that the three adults would suddenly turn around, he pulled open the hospital wing door and exited quietly. Once he was safely outside, he leaned against the stone wall of the hallway and massaged the back of his neck. His anger toward Farrah had slowly melted away over time, only to be replaced with a complicated fog.

Shouldn't sex be saved for someone you truly want to be with? When he had been younger, and a tad more impressionable, his father had told him that love was overrated. He told Sirius to bed hop as much as possible in his youth; he had the right to, Sirius was from the _noble _house of Black.

Fishing through his pockets, Sirius searched for his coca wrap. The past few weeks had been stressful, so he'd taken to carrying his joints around with him just in case. Finding it, he ducked behind the bust of Lady Bretta the Bewildered.

Peter would be asleep soon. He probably wouldn't even realize Sirius hadn't returned from the hospital wing.

Sirius lit up his joint and inhaled deeply, trying to forget the events of the past few hours.

* * *

The next day, James felt exhausted. He woke up late, and practically sprinted to Double Potions, his first class of the day. He had an extremely difficult time setting up his cauldron and chopping ingredients with one arm. Sirius managed to help until he purposely drank an entire ladle full of Sleeping Drought and collapsed on the floor in what James could only imagine was blissful sleep. Professor Keisner was not able to rouse him using any form of pepper-up, so he resorted to dismissing class early to levitate Sirius to the Hospital Wing. James was secretly jealous he hadn't thought of it first.

The door slammed behind Sirius' unconscious form and James' classmates didn't wait another second before crowding around him to ask about his injury.

"Nothing... Sirius and I were wrestling last night and I fell off the bed," he told Joanna Windham impatiently.

"Maybe if you weren't awake half the night playing ridiculous Muggle sports, you wouldn't fall asleep in classes the next day," Winnie Newman added viciously.

James hated ex-girlfriends.

"Sirius _meant_ to fall asleep," Peter argued, picking up his backpack roughly, "He did it on purpose." Then, to James, he added, "I'm going to run to the Hospital wing and check on both of them."

James nodded and scourgify'd the counter top with a quick wave of his wand. Lifting his back pack on the table, he tried to shove his potions book inside, but, with one arm, he couldn't quite wriggle it all the way to the bottom. He sighed deeply and raked an annoyed hand through his thick black hair. "Ruddy useless," he muttered as the classroom emptied. _Really_, Pete could have at least stayed until James had everything cleaned up.

Suddenly, two delicate hands opened his book bag and slid _Mortally Potent Potions: Volume 2_ inside.

James looked up.

Lily Evan's green eyes bore into him.

"Thanks," he mumbled despondently. Couldn't she have picked a better time to be nice to him? Perhaps when he wasn't feeling companionless? Here, under her gaze, he felt exposed. There was no Quidditch, no broomstick, no Marauders, no legions of fans; just James.

She charmed his cauldron to float across the room. It came to rest on the shelf with the others. Silently, Lily flipped the flap of his bag closed and fastened the buckle.

"Remus is sick again?"

He nodded. James expected her to comment on Remus's habitual health issues, but she didn't.

She stood up and lifted his backpack off the table and set it cautiously on his good shoulder. "You know... it's alright to ask for help sometimes."

He averted his eyes. James felt sheepish. His stomach was twisting in knots and his face felt warm. This was the first conversation they'd had since second year that didn't include Lily shouting at him. He desperately tried to think of something suave to say, but nothing would come to mind. Truthfully, he wasn't feeling too suave at the moment. He felt small and defeated; extremely un-Potter. He cleared his throat, "Well–erm–thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Are you going to Charms?"

She nodded.

"Can I... walk you?"

Lily seemed to think this over for a minute. Finally, "You can walk _next_ to me," she said, smiling craftily.

James snorted, and he remembered exactly why he was in love with Lily Evans.

The hallways were crowded. Hufflepuff and Slytherin sixth years had just been released from Defense Against the Dark Arts (Sirius called the class '_Defense Against_ Defense Against the Dark Arts' when the Slytherins were in it).

James hadn't even sent a sneer in Severus Snape's direction (mostly due to the lovely redhead walking near him) to provoke him. In a quick second and a flash of red light, a large force struck his chest, and his body flew across the width of the corridor, colliding with the wall. James felt his arm crack on impact. Air shot forcibly out of his lungs and pain flew through his body, blinding him. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

James gave a split second's thought to the fact that Lily was coming to his rescue before gritting his teeth and rising from the ground. His head spun. Unrecognizable people flocked around him.

"James?"

"Are you alright?"

"Should we get a professor?"

"Snape'll have detention for weeks!"

"Someone find Madame Pomfrey!"

"James... say something!"

"I'm _fine_," he said hoarsely, willing his eyes not to water.

Will Dowell, a Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, collected James' bag from the floor. Lily wrapped her arm around his waste and guided him down the hallway toward the hospital wing. He didn't, couldn't enjoy the moment though. Madame Pomfrey hadn't been joking when she'd warned him that re-breaking his arm before it had healed would be extremely painful.

James hadn't even made it three steps inside the door when the Healer caught sight of him. She didn't attempt to mask her groan.

"Honestly! I think the lot of you spend more time with _me_ than you do in your classes! As flattering as that is, Mr. Potter, you need to learn to be more careful."

"You should see the other guy," he croaked back.

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes and motioned for him to lie down in a nearby bed. On his left lay Sirius's unconscious form, Peter slouching close by. Remus was across from James, eyebrows raised, clucking his tongue disapprovingly. Curiosity was reflected in his amber eyes, he was probably wondering why Lily Evans, Prefect and President of the 'James Potter is a pompous dolt' club, was carrying his books.

James didn't have the energy to explain the circumstances, however.

Lily set his bag carefully beside the bed and glanced up at him.

He shifted uncomfortably as she gave a small smile.

James wanted her to leave before Madame Pomfrey arrived with the Skelefix. Lily had already seen him in pain, irritated, and bested by Severus Snape; he didn't want to add spoon-fed potion to the mix.

Luckily, she seemed to catch on. "See you later... try not to hurt yourself leaving the hospital wing."

He grinned, "I'll try."

On her way out, she patted Remus on the knee. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thanks," he returned.

It took Sirius a good four hours to wake up, and when he did, three detentions were patiently waiting for him.

He groaned. "I just wanted a few hours of peaceful slumber... since when is it against the rules to take a nap?"

James snorted and glanced over to where his best friend was lying, "Since you decided to do it during Potions."

Sirius' weekend was to be spent with Professor Sprout, scouring greenhouse #5. James, Remus, and Peter promised to meet him after his last detention, with food from their weekly Sunday visit to the kitchens.

* * *

Ten 'o clock rolled around much slower than usual for Sirius. He'd spent the last three hours under the watchful eye of the Herbology instructor, pulling the leaves off of Prickled Daffodils and feeding them dead fruit flies. Finally he was given permission to leave.

Remus, James, and Peter were waiting outside the main greenhouse, as promised, holding an assortment of late night snacks.

"Pumpkin pasty?" Peter asked through a mouthful of food.

They walked slowly back toward Gryffindor tower, all the while joking about Sirius' knack for landing himself weekly multiple detentions.

"I swear it's not my fault most of the time!" he argued.

The other three laughed.

"Remember the time during third year when you tried to set Snape's hair on fire during Potions?" James asked.

"Hey! That was a scientific experiment!"

"What could have possibly been scientific about it, Padfoot?" Remus asked.

"I wanted to see if greasewas _really_ flammable."

They were laughing so hard, not one of them realized that Bellatrix had come upon them in the hallway. She had to speak to get their attention.

"There you are, Sirius!"

Sirius turned around to find his cousin standing next to a portrait of a young witch turning a boy into a frog. Bellatrix smiled coyly and strode slowly toward him, her black hair swishing behind her.

"Sod off," Sirius said.

Her gray eyes flashed sadistically. "Snippy, aren't we?" She rolled her eyes and set her hand on her hip. "Calm down, dear cousin. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get out of that horrid detention... but... here you are."

"Yeah, and here he goes," James sneered as he tugged Sirius around by the shoulder of his cloak.

"All I need is a favor," she said, quickly crossing the distance between them and grabbing Sirius' hand.

He ripped his fingers from her grasp. "And why do you think I would do _anything_ for you?"

She didn't even have the dignity to recoil from his dismissal. Bellatrix's glossy lips turned up in a half-smile and she took another step toward him. "Because I know something."Sirius' brow furrowed. He hadn't the slightest idea what she was babbling about, but wasn't in the mood to play mind games with her. "What do you want?"

"Rodolphus graduated... I won't see him until Christmas break."

Sirius crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. "So?"

She raised her hand and ran a finger down the side of his arm.

Sirius shivered

"So, I need you to... satisfy some _urges_ I've been having in his absence."

Sirius wrenched himself away from her. His eyes shot immediately to his three friends. James and Remus both bore expressions of horror, and Peter looked bewildered. Sirius raked a hand through his hair and stared icily at Bellatrix.

"That's _sick_, Bella."

She batted her eyelashes. "Fine... I'll just ask Regulus. I'm sure _he'll_ be more than willing to comply."

"_Regulus_ won't be able to tell you head from your arse... then again... that's where many of us get confused," Sirius replied with a harsh laugh.

Bellatrix reached back and slapped him hard across the face. "Don't bother trying to act superior to me, dear cousin. I had a little chat with Farrah Carden earlier this evening."

Sirius paled.

James, Remus, and Peter glanced at their friend curiously.

Bellatrix didn't even wait for a reaction before continuing. "She told me what the two of you did at your family's Summer party." She seemed to suddenly notice the worried looks Sirius shot his friends and her malicious smile grew.

"Shut the hell up, Bella!"

She let out a loud cackle. "You didn't _tell_ them, did you? Can't have your perfect Gryffindor friends knowing how _black_ your soul really is."

"SHUT UP! You have no idea what you're talking about!" Sirius was livid now. He slammed his hands against her shoulders and pushed her back toward the adjacent wall. He growled as she laughed. James and Remus attempted to pull him away from Bellatrix.

Her eyes were dancing with mirth. "Don't I? She's your brother's girlfriend!" Her voice dropped low again, "But, don't worry... he doesn't know. The question is... what will you be willing to do for my silence?"

Sirius let go of her and took a step back. "Save your blackmailing for Azkaban, Bella," he said through clenched teeth. His fingers itched to wrap around her neck.

Bellatrix massaged her shoulders and braved a step toward him. She ran a finger seductively down his chest. "And you'll be right there with me, love." Whipping around, she started walking back down the hallway. "There are things you don't know, Sirius. Don't expect to see Farrah again." She had almost turned the corner leading to the Slytherin dungeons when she added, "If you change your mind about my preposition, I'll be with your brother."

Sirius picked up the bust of Lord Kerrington and threw it against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. "I've HAD it with my sick family!"

The others looked at him, strangely silent, until Peter cleared his throat. "What was she talking about?"

"Forget it."

James forehead was creased. "Farrah Carden... something... happened with her?"

Sirius let out a defeated sigh and sank down to the ground, leaning back against the cold stone wall. Bellatrix had handed them the nails for his coffin.

"Hey, Pete... let's go make sure Filch isn't anywhere nearby," Remus said, pulling Peter down the hallway by the sleeve of his cloak.

"It's not curfew yet, Remus!" he whined, but followed his friend nonetheless.

Sirius shot Remus a grateful look.

James took a seat beside his best friend and quietly waited for him to speak.

"It was... the night of my parent's party," he admitted slowly. "She came into my room after my mum sent me upstairs."

James pushed his glasses further up and leaned his elbow on his knee. "What... what happened?"

Sirius didn't want to say it out loud. He'd never said it out loud... that would make it true. The night wouldn't just be a fuzzy memory anymore.

Sirius gulped. "Err–I was sloshed... I don't really remember..."

"You... slept with her?"

Sirius nodded feebly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... I dunno... it was a rough night. I didn't want you to think I was like the rest of my family, terrible and all," he said quickly.

"Sirius..."

"I would never have done it if I was sober! I swear, James... it was a horrible mistake and I've regretted it every day since then..."

"Sirius!" James put his hand firmly on Sirius' shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Everyone mucks up once and awhile... I don't think any less of you." His hazel eyes were full of sincerity.

Sirius let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "This was a bit more than my normal, everyday screw up."

"So... she just... walked into your room and..." James trailed off and turned an odd shade of pink.

Sirius snorted and leaned his head back against the wall. "Pretty much. She—erm–took off her dress and hopped on top of me."

James cheeks became even splotchier. "Well... I do give you credit... that doesn't happen everyday."

"Yeah... too bad I was drunk and she was my brother's girlfriend." Sirius was beginning to feel a little more at ease. Relief washed over him as he realized James wasn't angry.

James laughed, "She is quite good looking, though, isn't she?"

Sirius forced himself to smile. "Never really thought about it... I think at the time, I'd have thought Wormtail was cute."

James' face contorted. "Gross."

"Yeah... a bit."

"And you..."

Sirius turned to look at James. "What?"

James blushed again. "Used... you know."

"No."

"_You know_..."

"...No."

James grunted impatiently. "C'mon... your dad taught you the contraceptive charm, didn't he?"

Sirius paled.

James' eyes widened.

"I... I don't remember..."

"Shit, Sirius! What if _that's_ what Bellatrix was talking about!"

"She was... in the hospital wing," Sirius' stomach twisted into knots and bile rose into his throat. "Oh, Merlin... she couldn't be _pregnant_..."

"Would she have told you?" James looked frantic.

"I haven't talked to her since that night."

"Bellatrix said you wouldn't see her again..."

"She had to have been sleeping with Regulus too. And it happened almost four months ago... she'd be showing by now, wouldn't she?" Sirius tried to recall seeing her in the hallways during classes.

"Would anyone be able to tell under the Hogwart's robes?" James asked.

"I don't know."

"Well, the fact that you haven't heard anything is good," James said.

"Yeah," Sirius responded mechanically.

"Maybe you could ask Regulus..."

"No sodding way... he'd kill me." Sirius raked his hand through his hair. "No, it's probably nothing... you're right, I'd have heard something by now."

James nodded, but didn't look convinced.

As they stood to leave, Sirius reassured himself that everything was fine. James would take this secret to the grave. If Farrah was, in fact, pregnant, no one would ever find out (unless she told) that Sirius had anything to do with the child.

No, the truth would remain hidden.


End file.
